Before Destiny
by WakingDragon99
Summary: Before he was a hero, he was just a skillful half Bosmer half human mage of Winterhold and an avid researcher of the Falmer. However, after he was being kicked out of the College, Draco ventures out of his own and make new friends, discoveries, joins another guild and getting into more trouble. (Story of the Dragonborn in Skyrim before he got captured near the border to Cyrodiil)
1. Into Exile

A/N: If you had read at least one or more of the my following stories ,'List of ways to get on the Dragonborn's nerves', 'In the moment of Darkness', and 'Chronicles of the Last Dragonborn'. Ignore whatever content that is in there. I have decided shape the time of events and my Dragonborn's past differently. So anyway, this story was originally intended to be my take on the Dragonborn fulfilling his destiny and blah... blah... blah but instead I decided to split the story into two separate ones, because it's going to take a long time for the Dragonborn to discover his abilities and I don't know when will that be. This part of the story won't have any presence of dragons coming back to life or Alduin attacking Helgen, but it tells the story of my Dragonborn's life in Skyrim before he was captured at the Cyrodiil border.

By the way, point out any grammar mistakes and weak vocabulary in this story. And please review if possible, the amount of time taken to type out a review is nothing compared to the time taken for me to type this chapter out. Even if you are not good or don't have a habit of reviewing, all you need to do is type whatever thoughts that come to your mind, simple as that. (I am trying to pick up the habit of reviewing frequently myself) Even if it's pointing out a minor flaw or offering encouragement, it will really help and motivate me. Well, if you hate it, either just don't review at all (I don't need flames and swearing in the review section) or point out why it is so bad. This way, I can improve on my flaws.

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Chapter One: Into Exile

Winterhold was a city in ruins for seventy-eight years straight and it still remained like that till this day. There were barely any people living in the city, and if the Jarl had bothered to make an effort to rebuild the city, it would have been more lively and active. Instead, the Jarl just bitched and complained about the College of Winterhold, which was seemingly responsible for the Great Collapse which left Winterhold in ruins. It was already nighttime, and Winterhold became eerily quiet. The College was quiet too, as all of the students had turned in for the night.

All except one.

'Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…' the analog clock hanging on the wall of the Arch-Mage quarters ticked away.

A Wood Elf with black hair was sitting in a chair in front of the Archmage's desk yawned as he continued to stare at the analog clock while waiting for the Archmage, who was sitting in his chair on the opposite side of the desk, to finish reading a book labeled 'Students' records'.

The Archmage, Savos Aren was a Dark Elf mage that had lived all his life and met many talented students, but not as talented as the one sitting opposite him: very young in age, a Wood Elf that mastered the school of Illusion and Destruction. However, that student had a record of breaking the most rules among all of the students of the College, in the past and the present. Savos-Aren closed the book shut and looked into the young Bosmer's eyes. However, the Bosmer just returned him an indifferent expression. Savos Aren sighed at his reaction. Just as always, the Bosmer always had a stoic face whenever he saw him.

"Draco," Savos began. "Do you know why you are sitting down here in front of me in my quarters right now?"

"I don't know," the Bosmer replied boringly. "I have done many things over the years that resulted you and the Master Wizard lecturing me harshly. Can you enlighten me what I did this time?"

"It is good that you are aware of all the rules you have broken over the years," Savos said sternly. "However, this time, don't you think that you have gone too far by stirring up a fiasco?"

"What did I do?" Draco asked nonchalantly.

"The student exchange program. The fiasco you made at the College of Whispers during your visit there."

 _'Oh, that fiasco,'_ Draco thought as he started to recall what he did during one of the lectures a few days ago…

 _In the lecture hall of the College of Whispers, Draco yawned as he heard the professor giving the lecture about Ysgramor and the Five Hundred Companions and their victory in the Nordic-Falmer War, a topic that he knew well. Way too well, in fact. Draco hoped that he could 'survive' his current lecture, although he doubted it._

 _And the more unfortunate thing is that the professor was a Nord._

 _"Blah… blah… blah," the professor droned._

 _That was what the professor said, well from Draco's point of view. He really felt like sleeping already. This went on for ten minutes until the professor said something that caught his attention._

 _"The Snow Elves brought this fate upon their own selves," the professor said. "Had they not attacked Saarthal, they probably wouldn't have been living as abominations as we see today."_

 _Draco groaned._

 _"Now, before anyone of you conclude that Ysgramor and the Five Hundred Companions were cruel and forcefully drove out the Snow Elves out of Skyrim, I have to say that it was the Dwarves' cruelty that caused the Snow Elves to turn into the Falmer we see today."_

 _'Directly got that from the Pocket Guide to the Empire First Edition,' Draco thought._

 _An Imperial student raised up his hand and asked, "But why did the Snow Elves attack Saarthal in the first place?"_

 _Draco wanted to answer 'Because the bloody Atmorans wanted the power of the Eye of Magnus to themselves and the Snow Elves were afraid that the Atmorans would abuse it, as some of them were Dragon Priests'. However, the professor said, "The Snow Elves were afraid of the increasing population of the Atmoran settlers and feared that they would be overrun one day. So, in order to protect themselves, they decided to kill everyone in Saarthal."_

 _'Again, from the Pocket Guide to the Empire First Edition,' Draco thought._

 _"However, there is some dispute that this was not the reason why the Snow Elves attacked Saarthal," the professor continued._

 _'Here we go, the Night of Tears,' Draco thought. 'More lies again.'_

 _"There is a source that says that the Atmoran settlers uncovered something of great power beneath Saarthal, and the Snow Elves wanted it for themselves."_

 _'Lies,' Draco thought. 'It was the other way round. Luckily for me, I had an expedition to Saarthal, and saw the draugr Jyrik Gauldurson harnessing the power of the Eye of Magnus.'_

 _"The act of Ysgramor and the Five Hundred Companions was justified."_

 _That did it._

 _"BOOOOOOOOOO!" Draco shouted from his seat. "BOOOOOOOO!"_

 _"I'm sorry, but what was that booing for?" the professor asked loudly, feeling angry._

 _"I would really like to know how competent you are as a professor!" Draco shouted. "What you said are all lies! All of them! Okay, except for the part where the Dwemer are directly responsible for the Snow Elves' plight. But the Atmorans are the ones that are primarily responsible for it!"_

 _"Hey! You don't have the right to say that!" a Nord student from the other side of the hall shouted._

 _"Ignorant elf! You know nothing!" another Nord shouted._

 _Anyway, all of the Nord students countered back. The non-Nord students just looked at each other in confusion or just kept quiet and listened._

 _"Since you think you are so smart," the professor said, tone clearly rising. "Why don't you give the lecture instead?"_

 _"Sure! It would be my pleasure!" Draco shouted as he sauntered his way to the stage._

 _Once he reached the stage, he could feel the professor giving him a glare, but Draco just ignored him. Draco cleared his breath and looked at the audience as he continued the lecture._

 _"Hello and good afternoon lads and lasses, what a wonderful weather we're having," Draco began as a clap of thunder was heard together with the pitter patter of the rain._

 _"Now, let's begin. You don't need to know who I am, but I am from the College of Winterhold in Skyrim and learnt many things there. Anyway, let's just cut to the chase and begin. You say 'Snow Elves are just as evil as the Thalmor! Snow Elves slaughtered the people at Saarthal! Ysgramor did a mass genocide and it was only fair! They didn't turn into Falmer because of Atmorans, but Dwemer! Blame the Dwemer, not the Atmorans! Snow Elves attacked Saarthal because they're cowards!' If I hear that, I will reply 'Yeah, you got that from the Pocket Guide to the Empire First Edition, which is completely biased and unreliable'."_

 _"And how are you going to prove that the Pocket Guide was unreliable?" a Nord student retorted._

 _"Patience, I was just getting to that," Draco replied. "And where are your manners, you didn't even raise up your hand to ask a question, but never mind, I don't wish to waste my time on that. So where was I? Oh yes, the Pocket Guide. The Pocket Guide was written by the victors: Ysgramor and the Five Hundred Companions and it is massively biased against the Elves."_

 _"Yeah, but it was…" another Nord student retorted but he was interrupted not long after._

 _"I know what you're trying to say. You're going to say that the Pocket Guide was edited by an unknown male elf that has a strong dislike of the humans and the Empire. But remember, the humans dominated the elves that time, so that editor must have some restrictions in editing the Guide. Now please, let me continue. There is another source that says that the Atmorans uncovered something powerful in Saarthal and wanted to keep it away from everyone else. And the Snow Elves invaded Saarthal as they coveted that 'something' and wanted to keep it for themselves. My first response to this? I'd say that it was the OTHER WAY ROUND!"_

 _"Now, I know all of you are wondering how I'm going to prove this claim. Let's just say that the College of Winterhold has approved an expedition to Saarthal for the students. And I saw a draugr harnessing power from that 'something', and I'm not going to say what it was."_

 _There were now murmurs from the audience, except for the Nord students, who gave Draco a glare instead._

 _Draco continued. "Let me share with all of you my theory. I'd say that the Snow Elves were protecting that 'something' from the Atmorans, because the Snow Elves knew that the Atmorans could not handle the power from that 'something'. Moreover, some of the Atmorans were Dragon Priests, who are brutal and oppressive. Now, all of you must be wondering how I uncovered this idea. I say that according to many books that are written by humans, the Snow Elves were a very proud, prosperous people and did not want war with the Atmorans, which leads us to the question, why attack Saarthal if they were at peace with them? Most scholars would say that the attacked to covet the power of that 'something' to themselves. However, this was not always the case. The Atmorans claim to be peaceful people but just look. Slaughter everyone in one city? Respond by performing genocide on the entire Snow Elf race. Ysgramor's logic. By the way, I don't think the Ancient Falmer wanted to slaughter the Atmorans, they just wanted to drive them away."_

 _"Now, all of you have to realise that the Five Hundred Companions are completely set on being douchebags under Ysgramor's campaign of revenge. Although here was nothing to clearly say whether the Ancient Falmer or the Atmorans were wrong, Ysgramor saw the attack on Saarthal as a 'massacre'. In my opinion, there was no 'massacre' at all, the Ancient Falmer only wanted to drive the Atmorans out of Skyrim. By now, you should have noticed that I address the Snow Elves as 'Ancient Falmer' now. I prefer to address them that way. The Ancient Falmer never wanted to slaughter every single Atmoran, but the Atmorans wanted to slaughter all Ancient Falmer. But as you know, the remaining Ancient Falmer who managed to escape made a deal with the Dwemer, and that resulted in their ultimate demise. Who caused the Ancient Falmer to turn to the Dwemer? The Atmorans."_

 _The entire audience (except for the Nord students) became much more interested in what Draco was saying and begun taking down a lot of notes. The professor's face was now red in anger._

 _"Well, the Falmer still attacked first!" the professor shouted at Draco._

 _"I think it's considered false by now," Draco said. "Ysgramor and his fellow Atmorans fled from a violent civil war in Atmora, so it's quite clear that the Atmorans aren't really that peaceful like some would claim. Let me tell you all of this, the Atmorans and the Nords deserved to be KICKED OUT OF SKYRIM!"_

 _"Now, Ysgramor's campaign of genocide on the Ancient Falmer didn't end upon his death," Draco continued. "It continued in Skyrim when it was under the reign of King Harald, the thirteenth of Ysgramor's line. Thirteenth. THIRTEENTH! This is completely ridiculous! For attacking a single city, the elimination of the entire race continues for centuries after that attack! I wonder how many times I mentioned this now. Anyway, the Atmorans are bastards! Douchebags! Assholes!"_

 _There were murmurs of admiration of some of the students, which were all non-Nords obviously._

 _Draco continued. "Now, before I end this lecture, I have one last thing to add on. Did you know, that in Skyrim, there is this common saying by Nords during a battle, 'Skyrim belong to the Nords!' Yes, it's a common battle cry of a Stormcloak, a Nord bandit, a Nord thief and so on. You know what? I hate it when they say that. Because Skyrim doesn't belong to the Nords, it belongs to the Snow Elves… oh and the Dwemer, but mostly Snow Elves. Anyway, as a result, Skyrim belongs to the Snow Elves. If anyone here agrees with me on this, do me a favour will ya? If you visit Skyrim and hear someone shout 'Skyrim belongs to the Nords!', respond back by shouting 'SKYRIM BELONGS TO THE SNOW ELVES!'"_

 _And after that, the entire audience (except for the Nord students) stood up and cheered, obviously impressed by Draco's lecture._

 _"Thank you! Thank you!" Draco said as he bowed to the audience._

 _"STOP RIGHT THERE CRIMINAL SCUM!" a commanding voice pierced through the lecture hall, silencing everyone._

 _Everyone turned to see an Imperial Watch Captain and a few more guards marching up to Draco. Apparently, he hadn't noticed that the professor had left the hall to bring in the Imperial Watch._

 _'I could tell where this is coming from,'_ Draco thought. _'The professor hates me and no doubt will report my 'inappropriate' attitude and behaviour to Savos Aren and Mirabelle Ervine.'_

 _"You violated the law! Now…"_

 _"Pay a fine or serve my sentence right?" Draco interrupted. "How about a no?"_

 _"It's off to jail then!"_

 _"If you can catch me," Draco replied as he sprinted past the Imperial Watch guards._

 _The Imperial Watch guards chased Draco relentlessly out of the College of Whispers. However, Draco managed to give the slip by casting an invisibility spell on himself before fleeing straight towards the border to Skyrim. Fortunately for him, the guards stationed at the Skyrim-Cyrodiil border were not aware of Draco's warrant of arrest yet, and Draco managed to get back to Skyrim._

That was one very interesting day. Okay, maybe he might be a little biased towards the Atmorans and the Nords, but it is a fact that their actions are worse than the Aldmer and the Nedes. While he wasn't proud of his ancsetors, the Aldmer, for stealing the land of the Imga and other native creatures of Valenwood, at least they got along well with the remaining ones that lived. The way Saint Alessia and the Nedes treated the Ayleids after being free from their slavery was justified, although cruel. Well, the Atmorans were the worst. They were hell bent on destroying all of the Snow Elves for several centuries after a single Falmer invasion of Saarthal. And about Saarthal, he was involved in an expedition to the Nordic ruin, which resulted in him encountering a Psijic Monk and found a powerful draugr named Jyrik Gaulderson harnessing the power of a strange magical orb which he had no idea what it was, until some research which identified it as the Eye of Magnus.

"Are you listening to me?" Savos's voice broke Draco's thoughts and brought him back.

"Yes, I'm still here, go on," Draco replied.

"After me and Master Wizard Mirabelle received a complaint about your actions, we had to persuade the College of Whispers to drop the case about you, and it wasn't easy. The reputation of the College of Winterhold is already tainted, and there is no need to worsen it," Savos explained.

"But there is a matter of free speech, right?" Draco said. "Everything we hear and see is a perspective, not the truth, so it's completely fine if I voiced out my opinion during that lecture."

"Draco, just…" Savos paused before sighing. "Look, my point is, don't do anything that will endanger the College, and especially yourself."

"I don't see how that is dangerous, besides…"

"Draco, please let me finish for a moment," Savos interrupted. "You have joined the College four years ago, when you were twenty. Mirabelle and I have questioned Faralda in letting you in the College, but you later proved to be skillful in the schools of Illusion and Destruction, mastering them in just thirty months and surpassed the skill of Drevis and Faralda themselves."

"Actually, it was more than a decade," Draco said. "I started training myself in magic when I was a child."

Savos ignored Draco as he continued. "You have also taken up quite an interest in the Falmer during your years here, did a lot of research and determined to find a cure for them. However, there is a huge list of College rules you had broken."

"What are they? I lost count of them."

Savos cleared his throat. "Other than the fiasco you stirred up at the College of Whispers, used live Falmer for your experiments, set one frenzied Falmer on the loose and allowed it to chase a College member, built an altar of spellmaking without anyone's knowledge, setting fire on Ancano's robes and punching him directly on his face which caused him to have a nosebleed, stole several books from the Arcaneum, blew up an entire classroom, and…"

"Hold it, hold it," Draco interrupted. "Firstly, I did the experiments on the Falmer outside the College. Secondly, Onmund was disturbing me so I had to do somtehing to 'motivate' him to go away. Thirdly, Urag stubbornly refused to lend me the books I seek so I had to steal them. Then I don't see how building an altar of spellmaking is such a bad thing. Oh, and Ancano was a snotty Thalmor jerk and insulted my intelligence, so I had to teach him a lesson. And…"

"Enough!" Savos shouted fiercely, silencing Draco. "Listen," Savos said calmly. "Please stop finding excuses. There is a reason why there are rules. And the main reason is to keep yourselves safe from harm."

"Aren't I sitting in front of you completely fine right now?"

"No. Draco, you see…" Savos Aren trailed off. He got out of his seat to check if the doors are locked before casting a Detect Life spell to confirm that there is no one eavesdropping on their conversation. When there were no signs of life other than Draco and himself, Savos got back to his seat and started to get more serious than ever.

"Draco, I think I should tell you this even though you know," Savos said. "As you know, Ancano is a Thalmor agent, and…. 'serves' as my… 'advisor'. He also reports to his superiors often about what the College is doing, and from what I heard, you are attracting the attention of the Thalmor, especially after you discovered the Eye of Magnus in Saarthal. Look, you mastered the schools of Destruction and Illusion, you are a really good archaeologist and explorer, an avid and committed researcher of the Falmer and even have the ambition to seek a cure for them. In this time of age, there are not many altars of spellmaking left in Tamriel, only Morrowind, High Rock and Summerset Isles are the only provinces that have those altars left. The Arcane University in Cyrodiil used to have these altars, but the Thalmor had taken them all away. Skyrim never had any of these altars, but you have built one of them on your own without anyone's knowledge. Look at all of your actions, skills and talents. And your expedition to Saarthal, Tolfdir told me that you claimed to see a Psijic Monk appearing out of thin air in front of you and warned you about 'dangers' ahead of you. It's a matter of time before the Thalmor put their full attention on you."

"Don't worry, I can take care of myself. I dealt with some of them before back in Valenwood," Draco said. "Besides, if you're worried about the Thalmor, why not send Ancano away?"

"Draco, I never liked Ancano anyway, but the reason why I kept him here is because I don't want the Thalmor to plant students or teachers in the College as spies, which will endanger the College more," Savos explained.

There was a moment of silence before Draco spoke up.

"Fine, I can understand your concerns," Draco said. "So, can I go now?"

"Not yet," Savos said. "Your actions at the College of Whispers are way too bold. As Archmage, I have to do something about this. For many of the rules you have broken, Mirabelle and I have let you off because of Faralda persuaded us not to. Faralda clearly sees a lot of potential in you. However, this time, I can't let you off that easily. You must be punished."

"Okay, so what will it be?"

"I'm afraid that I will be sending you to exile from the College for a year."

Time seemed to slow down tremendously. After what seemed like an eternity, Draco spoke.

"That's it?" Draco asked. "Exile me for a year? Just like that?"

Savos Aren was surprised upon hearing what Draco said. Draco spoke like he did not care what his punishment was, or he took the punishment lightly.

"You seem… indifferent about this punishment," Savos said.

Draco knew that the reason he was indifferent about the punishment issued to him was because he had been somewhat expecting that already. After all Savos said, it would be normal if Savos decided to expel him. However, Savos decided to exile him for a whole year instead, which was considered to be lenient to Draco.

"No point complaining about my punishment," Draco shrugged. "So how much time do I have to pack my stuff before leaving this place?"

"Since it's late already, I will let you turn in for the night, but I expect you to leave at eleven in the morning. You will only be allowed to return on the Eleventh of Evening Star next year."

"All right, I'll take note of that," Draco said. "So, may I go now?"

"Yes, you may. Remember, I expect you to leave by eleven in the morning."

-DF-

Draco woke up at nine in the morning the following day in order to pack up his things and finish up everything he needed to do before he leaves the College. After getting out of bed, the first thing he did was to splash his face with cold water from the water bucket placed on the floor of his room beside his bed. He would always leave a bucket of cold water beside him before going to bed every night so when he wakes up the next day, he could conveniently use the water to keep him fully awake immediately. After splashing his face with the cold water, Draco opened up his wardrobe to change to the only set of armour he had – the plain Valenwood Bosmer armour he had managed to acquire a set back together with a longsword in his homeland ten years ago. He might have not needed it ten years ago, but after he left Valenwood, it had proven to be useful and saved his life many times.

After changing into his armour, he threw his college robes into his knapsack, followed by his books, a quill, an inkwell, a few potions, and food supplies. However, it was a pity to him that he had to leave some of his important research notes about the Falmer, as his knapsack could not really store that many items. Draco looked at the analog clock hanging on the wall of his room and saw that it was now half an hour to eleven. He knew that he better leave soon. After carrying his knapsack, he grabbed his Valenwood longsword that was lying on the nightstand and thrust it through his sword belt, wore an enchanted amulet around his neck and put on his Bosmer mask which covered the lower half of his face. Now he was good to go.

Surprisingly, on his way out to the College grounds, no one he bumped into acknowledged the fact that he was sent to exile for a year. Draco guessed that the news had not really spread yet. Still, it made his exit easier as he did not need to reply to any questions that involved why he was being punished this way. As he reached the main gate, he turned around to look at the statue of the famous Archmage Shalidor of the First Era in the middle of the courtyard. Though Shalidor was a Nord, Draco had a lot of admiration and respect for him. Shalidor was known to have a vast knowledge of the workings of magicka that few had ever known, and Draco had once aspired to be somewhat like him once, but in the end, Draco found himself to be absorbed with the subject of the Snow Elves after learning about those poor elves who became twisted and evil, now known as the Falmer. Now he became obsessed with the Snow Elves and wanted to seek out a cure for them one day. However, judging by his punishment, it's going to be a year before he can continue his research.

 _'Well, this is it,'_ Draco thought. _'It's going to be a year before I step back into this courtyard. I had never thought I would miss the grumpy Orc librarian Urag, but it turns out I would, and as well as some of my mentors - Faralda, Drevis and Tolfdir. I won't be missing most of the other students there and that snotty Thalmor Ancano though.'_ Draco was about to walk out of the College gates before he heard a feminine High Elf voice that was calling out to him.

"Draco! Wait up!"

Draco immediately stopped walking and turned around to see a female Altmer running towards him. She was wearing master destruction robes, had pale skin, light brown with two high ponytails. Draco immediately recognised her as the College Gatekeeper, who was also a professor in the school of destruction and his mentor at the same time.

"What is it Faralda?" Draco asked.

"I heard from Mirabelle that Savos has decided to exile you from the College," Faralda replied.

"It's true, but only for a year. Time will fly quickly and before we know it, I will be back right here. You don't need to worry about me."

"I'm not exactly worried for you. After all, I was the one who let you into the College in the first place and saw what you are capable of. To be honest, I'm impressed that you managed to master the school of Destruction so quickly."

"Well, not exactly," Draco said. "I am more specialised in pyromancy. I am not really that good in electromancy and I suck in cryomancy."

"Still, it is a fact that you are a better Destruction mage than me," Faralda argued. "By the way, the reason I stopped you because I wanted to pass you this." She took out a book from her satchel and pressed it into Draco's hands. Draco saw that the cover of the book depicts the symbol of Cyrodiil's Mages Guild.

"What is this?" Draco asked.

"I had this book with me for a long time. It's called Power of the Elements. You see, over the years there are powerful magics lost to the ages, incredible spells that only the most skilled mages can master," Faralda explained. "This book is the only thing I have ever found. I think it is better off in your hands."

"Thank you Faralda. But why pass it to me?" Draco asked.

"I have lived for a few centuries, and it took me ages to master the school of Destruction," Faralda replied. "However, it is different for your case. You are only in your twenties but yet you have mastered not just only the school of Destruction, but also the school of Illusion. Drevis is impressed that someone like you already surpassed him in Illusion. Besides, I am just a College professor. Unlike you, I have to stay within the College most of the time while you have the freedom to explore and do your own research outside the College. There is no point keeping this book with me, but perhaps you can make better use and progress with it, even more so as you are being sent to exile."

Draco looked down at the book gain before looking up at Faralda. "I'll definitely put this to good use," he said.

"I know you will," Faralda said as she smiled.

"Well… well… well… What do we have here?" a voice of superiority came from nowhere.

Faralda and Draco turned around and saw Ancano striding towards them. His long hair was as white as the snow, face looking grumpy, and wore a pristine set of Thalmor robes.

"So…" Ancano started as he pushed Faralda aside and looked into Draco's green human eyes cynically before continuing, "it appears that you have gotten into some serious trouble that got you exiled. How typical of you."

"What do you want, Ancano?" Draco's asked in a monotone.

"Nothing of importance. Just wondering how in Oblivion you only got exiled now," Ancano laughed. "You were quite a big troublemaker and I am glad that Savos has decided to take action to chase you out. It's about time something like this happened to people like you, half-elf."

Draco did not say anything in response.

"Hmm, you are always being eerily quiet," Ancano said. "But then again, you don't speak with words most of the time, but through actions. I can not believe that Savos actually stopped me from dealing with you when you burnt my robes and punched me in the face."

"Stop raking up the past Ancano," Faralda said sternly.

"Why can't I?" Ancano sneered. "If my memory does not fail me, it was you who persuaded Savos to let this brat off!"

"Yes, I did," Faralda replied. "Because I think a punishment for this matter isn't necessary. After all, you were the one who made threats to him first. And it's not only him, you threatened others as well."

"Enough talk!" Ancano snapped before turning back to Draco. "Let me tell you, I report to my superiors about what's going on in the College, so you watch yourself. Oh wait, I forgot, you're exiled. What I meant to say is, I will be paying a lot more attention on you closely after you step back here, and I mean every word I said." Ancano's eyes then fell on the book 'Power of the Elements' that was still in Draco's hands.

"Let me see that book," Ancano said.

"What book?" Draco said noncahlantly.

"Don't play coy with me. Give me the book that's in your hands right now," Ancano demanded.

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll make sure that…"

"That book belongs to me, not him," Faralda interrupted. "The book is not his to begin with. I gave it to him. So you don't need to worry what kind of mischief he would be up to next. I can assure that the book will be nothing of interest to you."

Ancano glared at Faralda. "Fine. However, if I find out whatever the importance of the book that will directly affect the interests of the Thalmor, I will report this to my superiors and I will not let the both of you off." Ancano stormed off indignantly.

"I won't miss him," Draco said.

"I'm sure you won't," Faralda said in contempt. "Everyone hates him anyway."

Draco gave a short snort. He hated Ancano when he first saw him. That jerk thought that he was superior to everybody and seemed to dare someone to challenge him. But since Ancano was a Thalmor, hating him was a natural reaction. When Draco lived in Valenwood as a young child, his mother was killed by the Thalmor in a purge, and when it looked like that the Thalmor soldiers wanted to kill him, he had to flee and fight for his life at a young age. Life was really hard for him until he fled all the way to Skyrim and joined the College of Winterhold.

"By the way Draco, aren't you supposed to make a move now?" Faralda reminded.

"What? Oh right. I have to leave now," Draco mumbled. However, after a few steps, he stopped and turned to look at Faralda. Faralda noticed his hesitance and asked, "Is there anything else?"

"Well nothing of sort," Draco replied. "It's just that… I want to say thank you one more time."

"Why?" Faralda asked in curiousity.

"After my mother was killed in Valenwood, I have no more kin and my life became extremely tough. I did many unlawful things to ensure my survival, especially when I was in Cyrodiil. And then I fled to Skyrim. If it wasn't for you, I would probably be still sleeping in the wilderness and live like a vagabond. You were the one that found me and allowed me into the College. Among all the College professors, you guided me the most, showed me a lot of concern, and even pleaded Mirabelle and Savos to let me off when I broke some rules of the College. You are like… an elder sister to me. An elder sister looking after her younger brother."

"You flatter me," Faralda said, laughing. "I feel honoured that you see me as an elder sister. Well, since you see me as your elder sister, I have a piece of advice for you. Don't idle away during your exile. Find something meaningful to do and always remember to take care of yourself, especially when it comes to dealing with the Falmer, if you're planning to interact with them."

"Even without you telling me, I will still do that," Draco said.

Both of them laughed for a short moment before looking at each other in silence. Draco decided to speak.

"Well, this is it then," Draco started. "Farewell Faralda, take care of yourself. I will certainly miss you and the others."

"You take care of yourself too, and I will also miss you," Faralda replied.

After the farewell, Draco turned around and walked out of the College gates as Faralda watched him leave. The moment Draco stepped out of the gates and onto the bridge, he felt both the wind and atmosphere becoming stronger and colder. Despite wearing leather armour, Draco's armour was thick enough to keep him warm in the harsh cold weather, even though it was in the winter season. Draco continued to keep walking down until he reached the end of the bridge, where he turned his head around at that point to take one final look at the College of Winterhold before making his way to the Frozen Hearth Inn.

 _'Seems that I have a lot of planning to do,'_ Draco thought.


	2. Stepping into the Outside World

Chapter 2: Stepping into the Outside World

A warm atmosphere greeted Draco the moment he entered the inn. As usual, the inn was mostly empty, due to the fact that almost nobody lives in Winterhold anymore. Draco made his way towards the bar and sat down on the stool.

The innkeeper noticed his presence and looked up. "The usual?"

"The usual, Dagur," Draco replied. "Honningbrew mead and vegetable soup."

"Give me just a moment and I will have your meal." The innkeeper immediately went downstairs to prepare his order.

While waiting for his meal, Draco pulled out his map of Skyrim and studied it very carefully. His map showed the nine holds and their respective cities and towns, together with a lot of markings he made during his four years in Skyrim, and most of the markings he made were located in the Winterhold region. In fact, his map was very clean, except for the region of Winterhold. During his four years in Skyrim, the hold he was the most familiar with was Winterhold, which is also the hold he mostly spent his time in. All of a sudden, he felt foreign and new to Skyrim despite living here for four years.

Realising that he barely had any knowledge about Skyrim to begin with, Draco scolded silently to himself. He had no idea where his first destination might be. He intended to continue his research on the Falmer during his exile but he was lacking two things. One: the research materials he had to leave in the College of Winterhold. Two: Coin.

Draco checked his coin purse and counted that he roughly had only about a total of three hundred septims to begin with. And he is very well aware how long three hundred septims will last. _'Not even a week,'_ Draco thought.

At that moment, the innkeeper Dagur returned to Draco with a bottle of Honningbrew mead and a bowl of vegetable soup and placed them in front of Draco. "That will be thirty septims."

"Thirty septims? Prices have gone up again?" Draco asked, hiding the surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. This bloody Civil War has made things tough for all of Skyrim, especially Winterhold," Dagur replied. "Patrols are cut in half as more soldiers are sent to fight in his war. As a result, bandit raids on trading carriages, stores, farms and other supplies are more frequent." The innkeeper let out a long sigh when he finished.

"I see," Draco replied as he handed thirty Septims to Dagur. Draco knew about the Civil War involving the Imperials and the Stormcloaks in Skyrim. The Imperials were being led by General Tulius and the Stormcloaks were being led by Windhelm's Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak. Draco scolded to himself silently once more when he realised that he doesn't even know what actually sparked the Civil War. He wanted to ask Dagur for more information about the Civil War but decided to consume his meal instead and spare himself the mockery for having no idea what was going on in Skyrim these days. He really had a lot of catching up to do with the events happening in Skyrim. After he took off his mask, Draco used a spoon to stir the soup, but did not consume it.

Dagur noticed Draco's behaviour was strange and decided to speak up. "You seem troubled. What happened to you? The last time I saw you, you were wearing the usual College robes eating your meal quietly. Today, you walk into my inn wearing armour, and yet you are not eating. What happened?"

"Let's just say… I got into some trouble and I have been sent to exile," Draco replied. "And I don't really have much gold with me right now to last long."

Dagur nodded sympathetically. "I see. If you really are in need of gold, I think you should take a look at this." Dagur pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it over to Draco. Draco unfolded the paper and read it. On the first page, there was a sketch of a Nord with blonde braided hair and fearsome brown eyes with scars all over the face. The second page was a text. It said:

 _By the order of Korir:_

 _To all able bodied men and women of Winterhold. The bandits in Fort Fellhammer have been harassing, robbing, and attacking citizens and visitors._

 _A reward will be offered to anyone who kills their leader, Criding Torvornsen. Bring his head as proof of his death._

 _-Malur Seloth, Steward to Jarl Korir_

"A bounty?" Draco asked.

"Yes, a bounty," Dagur replied. "After all, you're a mage and you look skilled with a blade. A few bandits shouldn't be any trouble to you."

"First things first, I am more of a spellsword and nightblade than a mage. Secondly, I don't now how skilled these bandits are," Draco replied.

"Well, you don't have to take up the job," Dagur said. "There are many others to do it. If you are really in need of gold, I think you should become a sellsword. A mercenary. I believe you're a skilled fighter. Explore this land and take up jobs every now and then."

 _'Easy for you to say. I have not practiced with a sword for almost a year already. I don't know if I am still as skilled with a blade as before,'_ Draco thought _. 'But then again, my skills as a mage might make up for it. And if I were to go in close quarters combat with those bandits, it will serve as a good chance to test out my skill sword fighting. I just need to watch out for myself.'_

"Fort Fellhammer eh?" Draco said as he looked down on his map. "I know where that is."

-DF-

Later that night, cold air blew into Draco's face as he silently kept himself near the walls outside of Fort Fellhammer, keeping out of sight from four bandits that patrolled the outer walls of the fort. Fort Fellhammer was covered with snow, since it was within the region of Winterhold. As a skilled illusionist, he could cast a muffle spell or invisibility spell on himself to keep him stealthy, but decided that those spells will not be necessary. After all, it was already nighttime, and he could use the darkness to his advantage. It was also just four bandits anyway. He faced tougher and larger groups of enemies than this when he was in Cyrodiil.

Draco slowly made his way towards the gate to the fort, where there are a few barricades with a bandit standing guard. The bandit is wearing fur armour and equipped with an iron sword, holding a torch in his left hand. Draco was sure that he could take out the bandit quietly, but if he had killed the bandit directly, it will not be long before the other bandits notice something was amiss. Moreover, he is not sure how many bandits are there in this fort. There may be four bandits on the exterior, but there may be more in the interiors of the fort. Best to play safe.

Grabbing a small pebble right beside him, Draco threw it towards the road as the pebble made a loud sound, alarming the bandit that was standing guard at the entrance. The bandit wasted no time and ran towards the direction where the sound of the pebble was heard, and Draco used this chance to sneak into the fort grounds and continued to observe the movements of the bandits. Draco could see one bandit on the second of the fort, one using the smelter, and one walking around the first level of the fort. However, none of them seem to fit the face of the bandit leader Criding Torvornsen shown on the bounty note. Draco guessed that Criding was inside the fort, but first he needed to get past these bandits and sneak into the fort in order to kill him. Looking around a little longer, Draco saw that there are two doors leading to the fort's interiors, one on the ground level and one on the first level. Since it was easier to approach the door at the ground level, Draco decided to enter from there. Quietly, he slowly made his way towards the door at the fort's ground level before grabbing the handle of the door. However, when he yanked the handle, the door did not budge, and Draco soon noticed that there was a keyhole beneath the handle. Although he had some skill in picking locks, he did not have any lockpicks with him, leaving him no choice but to use the door at the first level of the fort. There was a flight of stairs leading to the first level of the fort, but right next to it was a bandit working with the smelter. He could either kill the bandit quietly or sneak past the bandit with illusion spells. He preferred the latter option, because one: he disliked conflict, two: only the bandit leader's death was needed to collect the bounty, and three: there was no place to hide the bandit's body if should he kill him, which will be discovered by other bandits on patrol, alerting his presence.

Being a skilled illusionist apparently allowed him to cast his spells quietly too, which proved to be useful. After casting a muffle and invisibility spell on himself, Draco slowly approached the flight of stairs and walked past the bandit working with the smelter without being detected. There was also one more bandit patrolling the fort's first level, but sneaking past that one was also not much of a problem for him. Draco managed to reach the door on the first level without being detected and found out the door was unlocked. Turning the handle quietly, Draco slowly walked into the fort and closed the door quietly behind him, which also dispelled his invisibility spell at the same time.

Draco found himself inside a room that seemingly looked like a garrison. There are three beds, some drawers and decoration around the room, but no sign of presence. Suddenly, Draco heard a mutter somewhere inside the garrison.

"I'll never do another span in that stinkin' jail. Rather die than give myself up."

 _'Someone's in this room,'_ Draco thought. _'Hopefully it's Criding.'_

Still having his muffle spell active, Draco prowled across the room to look for the sign of presence. After reaching the end of the room, Draco noticed that there was a smaller room connecting to the main garrison bedroom. And since the door to the smaller room was open, Draco was able to see what was in the smaller room. The smaller room had a chest, a dining table and from what he could tell, a Nord male with blonde braided hair sitting on the chair with his back turned towards him. He was wearing steel clad armour without a helm, and had an iron greatsword on his back.

 _'This is likely to be Criding Torvornsen,'_ Draco thought.

Drawing his sword quietly, Draco skulked towards bandit leader's back and prepared to make his kill. _'Make the death quick. Get his head then get out of here,'_ Draco thought.

In a swift motion, Draco swung his arm around and pulled back the neck of the bandit chief before stabbing through the Nord's armour and chest with his longsword. The bandit chief immediately brought both of hands to Draco's sword and struggled a bit before successfully pulling the sword out of his chest and elbowed Draco. Draco stumbled back a little with his bloody longsword still in hand before recovering his balance. The bandit immediately got out of his chair, clutched the area of his body where the sword had stabbed and turned around to see his attacker, at the same time revealing his face and identity to be Criding Torvornsen.

"Son of a…" Criding did not manage to finish his sentence. Draco charged forward and immediately drove his sword back into Criding's wound, plunging it deeper than before. Criding screamed in agony before his body went limp, indicating his death.

 _'Whew, that was quick,'_ Draco thought as he pulled out his sword out of Criding's chest and chopped off the bandit chief's head. After picking up the head, Draco grabbed a sack nearby and dropped Criding's head into it before tying a knot around the sack. Now he had evidence to prove Criding's death and collect his bounty. Just as he was about to leave, Draco noticed the chest's presence in the small room.

 _'Maybe there's some good loot in there,'_ Draco thought before he kicked the chest opened. The chest contained some plain iron weapons and armour, but there was a large pouch of gold in the chest that appealed to Draco the most. Draco picked up the pouch and counted the amount of Septims inside.

"Two hundred septims," Draco muttered as he pocketed the coin. "Not much but at least it's better than nothing."

"Chief, we heard a scream. Are you okay in there?"

Draco shifted his head quickly towards the door where he come into the room from and immediately went into a fighting stance. _'They heard the scream, and now they have me cornered. No time for me to hide myself or cover myself with invisibility. Guess that means I have to fight them,'_ Draco thought before running towards the end of the room, maintaining the furthest distance between him and the door as he prepared fireball spell in his left hand and his sword ready in his right hand.

"Chief! You are not responding to us! We're coming in!" the voices of Criding's cronies called out.

The moment the door opened, Draco released the spell in his left hand and blasted the fireball towards the bandits at the door. Draco could see the fireball immediately killed some bandits and those that survived the spell are knocked back away from the exit. Draco immediately ran towards the door and out to the fort exterior.

"Intruder!" a bandit screamed. "Call for help!"

Soon, more bandits came out from the door at Fort Fellhammer's ground level and surrounded Draco before he could make his way to the Fort Fellhammer's exit. Draco went into a defensive stance and observed the bandits carefully. There are a total of nine bandits surrounding him, each with their weapons drawn and all wearing fur armour.

"You shouldn't have come here, tree hugger," one of the bandits said as the entire bandit group walked towards Draco menacingly.

Draco responded by throwing out a fireball towards the bandits out of the blue.

A few bandits managed to get out of the fireball's area of impact. The fireball immediately killed two more bandits and sent three flying across the fortress grounds. Before the bandits could recover from their surprise, Draco charged towards the nearest bandit and stabbed directly at where his heart is located, resulting in an instantaneous death. Pulling out his sword Draco charged towards the next nearest bandit and slashed his body a few times, sending the bandit staggering. When the bandit staggered until his back was turned, Draco wasted no time in inflicting the killing blow on the bandit by driving his sword into his back until it protruded on the other side of the bandit's body before pulling his sword out again. Draco looked up and saw the remaining five bandits recovering from their surprise and charging towards him. Since there was some time before the bandits could get close to him, Draco took advantage of the distance between him and the bandits by blasting another fireball towards the bandits. The fireball incinerated another two bandits. The remaining three managed to dodge the fireball and engaged Draco in close quarters. Despite the fact that he had to fight three bandits at once, Draco was a skilled swordsman while the bandits looked like that they are just randomly swinging their weapons around. The bandits were rough, but it was obvious to Draco that they do not know how to use their weapons properly.

Draco managed to parry off the blows coming from the bandits with no problem and quickly found a chance to do a sweeping kick, tripping up all the three bandits at once. Draco immediately brought down his sword down into the chest of the first bandit lying on the ground before pulling it out and did the same thing to the second bandit before he could get up. The final bandit was getting onto his feet, but Draco immediately kicked him back to the ground before doing the same thing as he did to the other two bandits that were lying on the ground. After the final bandit showed no signs of life, Draco pulled out his sword before shaking it to get the blood of the bandits off the blade.

Draco breathed heavily as he sat down on the ground cross-legged, putting his longsword on the ground next to him. He could not believe it. He successfully killed off a small and weak group of bandits that happened to be also ill-equipped, but he felt tired. Draco could not believe that he was tired after a fight like this. This group of bandits should not have been a problem at all. In the past, when he fought and killed people for survival, both in Valenwood and Cyrodiil at a young age, his endurance and strength grew. He once fought a group of bandits larger than this in Cyrodiil but he never got this tired at all. Something was wrong him. And it was not long before he knew the root of the problem.

His life at the College of Winterhold.

The College of Winterhold made him weak.

He had untrained himself.

Training on a certain skill to improve on it is difficult and takes a long period of time. Becoming worse on a certain skill on the other hand, is very easy and the effects are easily seen in just a few days.

Before he joined the College, he used to train his skill in sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat on a regular basis. After joining the College of Winterhold, he became busier had less time for self-training in both of those skill areas, and his obsession and research about the Falmer completely reduced his time for training even further, until he stopped training completely a year ago. His skill in magic may have increased much more than before, but it is a fact that he had grown weaker in fighting with a sword. He had thought that even if he stopped his training, his level of skill in sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat will not drop, but it appears that he is very wrong. All of because he had joined the College of Winterhold.

No. That could not be right. It was not the College's fault.

It was himself.

He was responsible for his own training and time management. He could not blame anyone but himself for growing weaker.

Spotting a brick that had crumbled from the old ruined fort, Draco proceeded to pick it up with his left hand and lifted it up until his chest level. Still in his cross-legged position, he lifted up his right hand with his fingers straight and closed together before putting all his focus on the brick in his left hand. Then in a swift motion, he threw the brick into the air, lifted his right hand higher than before and then shot his right hand down onto the brick while still in mid-air, resulting in a loud sound of concrete breaking as the brick broke into two. However, the moment he broke the concrete brick, a searing pain ripped through his right hand. Draco clutched his right hand in pain. In the past, breaking concrete bricks or planks of wood were of no issue to him. He was still able to do it now, but the only difference is that his hand hurts a lot when he did that, unlike the past. Draco healed his hand before looking at it. He could not believe it.

He knew he had grown weaker, but never thought will he grow weaker to this kind of extent.

 _'This could not be,'_ Draco thought. _'I have grown so weak during my time at the College. I have to hone my strength and skill again.'_

 _-DF-_

"Hmm, yes, this is the head of Criding Torvornsen," the Dunmer steward to the Jarl of Winterhold mused as he studied the chopped head Draco gave him. Draco had returned to Winterhold near midnight, where most of the residents have turned to bed by then. He wasted to time in entering the Jarl's Longhouse and showed the Dunmer steward Malur Seloth Criding Torvornsen's head.

"So what about my reward?" Draco asked.

"Ah yes, the reward, it's already prepared," Malur said as he pulled out a huge coin pouch and handed it over to Draco. "Three hundred septims."

After receiving his reward, Draco exited the Longhouse and entered the Frozen Hearth Inn to rest. It had been quite a day. As he proceeded to sit at one of the stools at the counter, the innkeeper Dagur greeted him again.

"I see you have returned from your bounty hunting," Dagur said.

"Just give me some tea and a sweetroll," Draco said.

"It will be done," Dagur replied as he handed Draco a sweetroll before retreating to prepare the tea.

Draco pulled off his mask and bit into the cream glazed area of the pastry. It may not be the healthiest snack to consume late in the night, but he did not really care – he liked anything that is sugary and sweet. After fully consuming the sweetroll, Dagur returned to Draco with his tea. Draco grabbed the tankard and paid for his food and drink before taking a small sip of the tea. Although it was not as good as the ones his mother brewed back home, at least it was refreshing to him and tasted better than the ones he tried to brew himself. He eventually gave up trying to brew his own tea after failing numerous times.

"Hey Dagur, do you have a moment to talk?" Draco asked.

"Can't you see it's very empty here?" Dagur said. "Feel free to talk."

"You said that I should become a sellsword," Draco said. "Tell me, where do you think are the best places to look for work?"

"Well…" Dagur trailed off as he scratched his head. "You are mostly like able to find work in villages, towns, and cities, but mostly the cities of Whiterun and Solitude. Whiterun is in the centre of Skyrim and is apparently to province's trade hub. Solitude's the largest city as well as the capital of Skyrim. You might want to start from those two cities. For the other major cities… you could also find plenty of work in Markarth, west of Skyrim. It's also in the most dangerous hold of the Reach however, but that is the reason there are a lot of bounties in that hold, although there is some corruption in Markarth. I suggest you avoid Windhelm and Riften though."

"Why?" Draco asked.

"The Nords in Windhelm are very unwelcoming to non-Nords. You will see that the Dunmer living in the city are being treated badly, and there are Argonian workers that are not allowed in the city. By the way, although you may have human eyes, you're still an elf. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak together with his Stormcloak army and most Nords in Windhelm outright hate the Thalmor the most, which mostly consists of High Elves and Wood Elves. And there is also the fact that in Windhelm…"

"So to summarise everything, you're saying that Windhelm is a city filled with idiotic and racist Nords," Draco interrupted.

"Well, you can say that if you want to," Dagur shrugged. "It's your choice whether you want to go there, but you'll have a hard time in the city."

"Very well, what about Riften?"

"Riften's home to the Thieves Guild, and the corruption in the city is higher than the corruption in Markarth. Let's just leave it at that," Dagur replied.

"All right," Draco said. "Is there anything else of relevance you could share with me?"

"Well, there is one more thing. There is a band of mercenaries with a huge sense of loyalty, honour and courage called the Companions in Whiterun, you might consider…"

"Forget about the Companions, there is no way in Oblivion am I joining that group," Draco cut off Dagur again. Draco knew that the Companions was the group that was originally called the Five Hundred Companions back in the Merethic Era, led by Ysgramor, or should he say, the sick bastard that destroyed the race of the Snow Elves and indirectly caused them to turn into the twisted Falmer. Even though the current Companions was much different from the one in the past, he did not like the idea of joining them. Unless someone threatens to destroy his mother's soul in Aetherius or anything like that, he will never, ever join the group that descended from a former army that indirectly destroyed one of the greatest elven races that ever lived.

"Well, your choice," Dagur replied before he set his eyes on the amulet around Draco's neck.

"You worship Kynareth?" Dagur pointed to the Amulet of Kynareth around Draco's neck.

Draco just gave a small nod.

"Well, you may probably want to visit Whiterun," Dagur said. "In the Wind District, there is a Temple of Kynareth along with a holy tree called the Gildergreen."

That caught Draco's attention. "A Gildergreen Tree?" From what he had known, the Gildergreen Tree was grown from a either a cutting or a seeding from the ancient Eldergleam Tree, one of the oldest living trees in Tamriel that represented the true glory of Kynareth, although he did not know where it was located. If there was a Gildergreen Tree in Skyrim, the Eldergleam should be also in Skyrim too. And if that is true, he certainly did not see it coming.

"Yes, the Gildergreen. Worshippers of Kynareth such as you revere the tree up to the extent of protecting them. However, a few months ago the tree was struck by lightning and from what I heard, it was severely burnt," Dagur said solemnly.

Draco managed to suppress an outburst of shock before asking slowly, "So, is there an Eldergleam Tree in Skyrim?"

"I think it's in a cave somewhere in Eastmarch, called the Eldergleam Sanctuary," Dagur replied.

"Thank you, now what's the shortest route to Whiterun?" Draco asked.

"Hmm, there are two routes you can take," Dagur said. "One through the Pale and one through Eastmarch. I will take the route through the Pale if I were you. The route through the Pale takes a slightly shorter time to reach Whiterun and the hold is quite safe due to its sparse population. The only thing that you need to watch out is the harsh cold winds and the creatures of the snow. As for Eastmarch…"

"Say no more, I have my answer," Draco cut Dagur off as he dropped some septims onto the bar. "I'll be taking a room tonight, and then leave immediately first thing the morning. Can you wake me up by seven tomorrow?"

"Sure thing, now let me show you your room for tonight."

* * *

A/N: I just want to say that updates might be really slow for the time being. And don't forget to review please.


	3. Kynareth's Wrath

Chapter 3: Kynareth's Wrath

"Wake… up…. Wake up… Wake up…"

Draco ignored the slurred voice and continued to sleep. A few seconds later, freezing cold water splashed all over him, jolting him awake.

"Huh, what happened?" Draco murmured as he got up, still feeling chilly.

"By the gods, you asked me to wake you up at seven, but you slept through the whole morning!" Dagur said as he stood next to the bed, holding an empty bucket in his hands.

Draco became alarmed. "Did you just say… slept through the whole morning? What time is it?" he asked quickly.

Dagur pointed to the analog clock that was hanging on the wall of the room. The hour hand was between the numbers twelve and one and the minute hand was between the numbers four and five.

"It's already afternoon? I told you to wake me up at seven!" Draco shouted.

"Like I said, I did try to wake you up," Dagur retorted. "I did it dozens of times, but you just slept like a log! It was only now that I decided to use cold water to splash you awake."

Draco sighed in defeat. "Well I guess you're right." Still, he could not believe that he woke up only in the afternoon. In the past, he could go without sleep without a day or two, and he woke up just on time on the day he had to leave the College.

 _'Guess that I am still adapting to the outside world,'_ Draco thought. _'I eventually have to.'_

After finishing his breakfast that also happened to be his lunch, he immediately packed up his things, dried himself, left the inn, and got some supplies from the local general store before leaving Winterhold and took the path to Whiterun. From his estimation, it would take him around ten hours to reach Whiterun, if he were not to stop at any point of time. If he were to quicken his footsteps, if would probably be seven to eight hours instead.

As he walked along the road to Whiterun, he plucked plenty of snowberries along the way, knowing that he could make snowberry juice with them. Other than the harsh cold, he did not encounter any trouble or difficulty along the way, except for some hungry ice wolves that tried to attack him, but they were easily pacified by his illusion spells and left him alone. So far, he had passed by a iron mine and called Whistling Mine and a cave called Stillborn cave, a Falmer inhabited cave that he remembered exploring before. He remembered that during his days in the College researching the Falmer, he explored the cave and studied the Falmer in there, with him ending up with some minor injuries. Hopefully, after passing by Stillborn cave, he would not need to encounter anything else other than the animals of the snow. However, he was wrong.

After walking past Stillborn cave for some distance, Draco found himself getting closer to a military fort.

A Stormcloak military fort.

Draco could feel the eyes of the Stormcloak soldiers in their signature blue and brown armours on both outside the fort and on the ramparts gluing onto him as he walked along. Most of the Stormcloaks are known to be extremely distrustful of non-Nords, especially the beastial races and both the High Elves and Wood Elves, since both of the mer are part of the Aldmeri Dominion and the Thalmor, which the Stormcloaks are known to hate a lot. Hopefully, none of the Stormcloaks would accuse him of being a Thalmor and then attack him. If they did, then he knew he was going to be in some trouble. After all, there was so many of them and only one of him.

 _'Just act casual. No need to tense up, otherwise they will increase the suspicion of you being a Thalmor. Remember, you are not guilty of anything,'_ Draco told himself in his head.

Draco kept his cool and walked casually on the road in front of the fort. Some time back, being calm in such a situation was no problem to him, but somehow he had a bit of difficulty right now.

 _'This new environment, my days at the College, changed my way of life,'_ Draco thought. _'I wonder how many good points about me had turned flawed over time. And I am sure it's just more than 'a few'.'_

When he walked right in front of the fort's entrance, a Stormcloak soldier placed himself in front of Draco on the road and asked roughly, "What do you want, Elf?"

Draco could feel the contempt coming from the word 'Elf' but it did not intimidate him. "Just passing through," he replied.

"That better be so," the Stormcloak soldier growled. "Try anything funny and I will make sure I have your head."

Draco continued to walk along the road and his mind eased when he got past the fort. Further along his route, he walked past a cave and soon found himself nearing an inn called Nightgate inn. He was tempted to rest at the inn, but decided to keep going on the road instead. After all, time is precious. The less time he saved, the sooner he will arrive in Whiterun.

As Draco walked further, he could see that the land in front of him got less snowy and the beautiful sight of the plains of Whiterun was coming into view. He also felt less cold than before, and he was thankful for that.

 _'I must be in the Whiterun hold now. Those plains… they look fascinating,'_ Draco thought.

Unfortunately for Draco, the sky was darkening before he had even reached Whiterun, though he could see a tiny speck of the city from where he was.

Draco sighed as he dropped his knapsack to the ground and decided to rest and sleep at wherever he was at the moment for the day. But the first thing he needed to settle was his dinner.

And judging by what he was going to eat for dinner, not many would even consider it a proper meal.

Draco took out two bunches of snowberries he had plucked along the road in the Pale hold, and it was certainly a lot. Snowberries were one of his favourite fruits, and considering that there was an abundance of them in Winterhold, he usually consumed them whenever he had nothing else. After washing the fruit with the water from his flask, he slowly plucked off the berries one by one and threw them into his mouth, chewing and savouring the fruit. After eating a whole bunch of the fruit, Draco took out a mortar and the pestle before laying them on the ground. He plucked off all the snowberries from the other bunch and dropped some of them into the mortar before using the pestle to pound the snowberries to crush them. Once the snowberries looked thoroughly crushed, Draco dropped the remaining snowberries into the mortar and crushed the rest of them. He then poured the rest of the water from his flask into the mortar so he could extract the juice from them later. Once he was done, he took out a wooden bowl and a cloth, where he then transferred the crushed snowberries onto the cloth from the mortar. Finally, he wrapped and twisted the cloth around the crushed snowberries, brought it above the wooden bowl and pressed cloth hard, allowing the juice from the snowberries to be squeezed into the wooden bowl.

After no more liquid was dropping out from the cloth, Draco put his cloth away before picking up the wooden bowl and drank the snowberry juice he had made. It was pretty refreshing.

 _'This was what I lived on whenever I'm not in the College grounds most of the time,'_ Draco thought to himself as he looked at the sunset over Whiterun. _'Time really flies quickly. Wonder when was the last time I consumed a snowberry before this.'_ Just as he finished that thought, something came up to his mind.

 _'Wait a minute, why in Oblivion am I enjoying the sunset when I am supposed to make myself stronger after untraining my skills?'_ Draco thought incredulously. _'And admiring the sunset? What am I even doing with my life? Better train myself before it becomes too dark.'_

Draco immediately stood up, closed his fingers with his thumbs apart from the rest of the fingers in each hand and raised them to his stomach level before taking a deep breath. After some silence, he launched out his right fist into the air, followed by his left fist, then a series of moves and stunts he had learnt over the years for the rest of the evening until dark, where the two moons Masser and Secunda appeared up in the sky. It was only by then he lay down on a patch of grass and fell asleep. After this training, he decided that every time he was resting in the wild, or alone somewhere, he would train his hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting skills.

The night was peaceful and he managed to wake up before dawn. After eating his breakfast, which are snowberries again, he packed up his stuff and got ready to continue his road to Whiterun. There is still quite a distance to go.

The rest of the journey was pretty smooth other than a few wolves that were easily pacified. It was not long. The entire city of Whiterun is now in his view, along with a few farms outside and a meadery called 'Honningbrew Meadery', the meadery that makes his favourite mead.

As he walked up the hill, he saw two guardsmen with yellow cloths draped over their chainmails guardling the gate. When he approached the gate, the guardsmen eyed him suspiciously, most likely because he had a mask covering the bottom half of his face. He could be easily mistaken for an outlaw because of that. One of them stepped in front of Draco.

"State your business, traveller," the guard said coldly.

"I'm here to visit the Temple of Kynareth and the burnt Gildergreen tree," Draco replied.

"Really?" the guard replied cynically. "Take off that mask and let us see your face."

Draco wanted to retort but decided to take the mask off instead. 'The guards probably want to make sure I'm not an outlaw,' he thought. He took off his mask.

The guard looked closely at Draco's face and looked at the scar on the left side of his face for a moment before replying, "All right, you may go in, but don't cause any trouble or I'll haul you into the Dragonsreach dungeon myself, elf. Don't know why you want to see that broken stump, but that's none of my business."

Draco put his mask back on as both guards opened up the gate and allowed him to enter, but they continued to keep their gaze at him until he was completely beyond the gate and into the city.

The streets of Whiterun were bustled with people. Draco had never seen a city more lively than this before. Well, Whiterun was the trade hub of Skyrim, so it was supposed to be lively. But, Draco had not expected the city to be that lively.

The marketplace was filled with wooden stalls manned by their owners, voices rising to attract others to browse and purchase their goods. The doors of various shops could be heard opening and closing very often. All of that did not seem strange, but one thing that caught Draco's attention is that there are people who are hanging lanterns that emit various colours all over the buildings and structures of the city, but he decided not to think too much about it. What he needed to do is to visit the Temple of Kynareth and the Gildergreen Tree.

He had a bit of difficulty navigating through the bustling streets, but that did not deter him from reaching the Wind District. However, the moment he reached the Wind District, the first thing he saw was the badly burnt Gildergreen Tree.

The holy tree looked very dry and rough. There were no leaves on the branches, and a giant scorch mark could be seen on the trunk, very likely to be caused by lightning.

 _'How could Kynareth let this happen?'_ Draco thought dejectedly as he walked towards the tree and placed his hand onto the trunk of the tree. _'The tree must not remain like this. This is utterly disgraceful. Is there a way to restore it?'_

"Mister, could you spare a coin?" a child-like voice called out, interrupting his thoughts.

Draco turned around and saw a young girl not older than nine in a filthy green dress in front of him, kneeling down and placing her hands together, begging. She also looked thin and frail, as if she hadn't eaten anything edible for a few days.

"Go bother someone else," Draco said.

"Please?" the girl begged further, sounding desperate.

"No," Draco said, voice ice-cold this time.

His voice probably scared the girl in addition to his appearance, because the girl seemed to tremble and move away for him, unable to speak. Draco could feel the eyes of those who witnessed what happened staring at him briefly before going back to what they are doing, but he ignored them. They were probably judging him but he did not care.

He looked back to the Gildergreen tree and thought, _'The priests at the Temple must know how to restore it.'_

Draco hastened to the Temple of Kynareth and pushed the doors open. There were injured and sick people lying on the few healing altars around a tiled central area with a raised cross mosaic in the floor and shallow waters filling the areas between the legs of the cross. There are wooden benches at the sides of the temple, a few planters, and both a statue and a shrine of Kynareth at the northwest wall. There were two priestesses and one priest treating those that were lying on the healing altars.

Seeing that the priest and priestesses are busy healing the sick and injured, Draco decided to pray at the shrine first before asking about the Gildergreen. He approached the shrine that was placed in front of the statue of Kynareth, kneeled down, closed his eyes, and started to mutter the prayer.

 _"Come to me, Kynareth, goddess of the winds, the heavens and the spirits of the sky, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures. You are the embodiment of nature, with the creatures and Spriggans of the wild being your guardians, representing your wrath and fury."_

Draco took a deep breath before opening up his eyes and stood up. It was not an excellent or a perfect prayer, but that should be okay. In fact, he had just stated what Kynareth was anyway. He turned around to see that one of the priestesses had finished treating her patient and was now sitting down on one of the benches. Draco walked towards her and opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the priestess sighed and said, "Let me guess, you must be here to see the Gildergreen, isn't it? It was taken by a lightning strike, and I wish that I could deal with it. However, I have no time to deal with the situation, for there are many wounded from the war."

"But the tree is your responsibility," Draco said sternly. "Your responsibility and so are the responsibility of the other priests."

"I really have no time to deal with it. Soon I have to get back to work," the priestess said.

"You can't just let the tree stay like that forever," Draco replied.

The priestess seemed to think for a while before looking back at Draco. "Well, there is a way to revive the tree, but I need your help."

"I'll help, but how?" Draco asked.

"Trees like the Gildergreen never really die, they only slumber," the priestess explained.

'Really? I didn't know that,' Draco thought.

"To revive the tree, the sap from the parent tree, the Eldergleam, is needed," Danica explained. "But even if you could get to the Eldergleam, you couldn't tap it with an ordinary weapon."

"So, what kind of weapon would work?" Draco asked.

"Eldergleam is much older than metal, from a time before men or elves. To even tap it-"

"Get to the point," Draco interrupted. "Just tell me what's the weapon, what I will have to face to get the weapon, and the location of the Eldergleam tree."

-DF-

Hagravens.

He had heard of them before, and apparently, they are ugly humanoid creatures with bird-like feathers that despise nature and hunt spriggans down. They also sounded like powerful hags or witches to him, but he never fought one before.

Apparently, the weapon he was supposed to retrieve is a dagger called Nettlebane, and it was located in a Hagraven's nest called Orphan's Rock, near the town of Helgen in the Falkreath hold.

And he wished that he had asked Danica, the priestess of Kynareth he had spoken to earlier, what hagravens are capable of, because he underestimated them.

WHOOSH!

A fireball exploded just right beside Draco, but he managed to avoid it and time. However, the impact of the fireball burnt the vegetation around it. Orphan's Rock was inhabited by a hagraven and two witches. He managed to kill both of the witches, but the Hagraven proved to be a big challenge. A few more fireballs flew towards Draco, but he managed to avoid them swiftly.

 _'I shouldn't have wasted my magicka on using my powerful fire spells against the two witches earlier,'_ Draco thought. _'I overestimated the witches, and underestimated the hagraven. That ugly bitch does not even spare me the time to cast at least a warding spell!'_

BOOM!

Draco ducked in time to dodge another fireball from the hagraven, but the fireball hit the tree behind him, causing the tree to burn and slowly collapse on Draco. He managed to roll out of the tree's way before it hit the ground hard. As he looked up, he saw the hagraven preparing to cast another fireball spell at him again.

 _'Oh crap, does that creature even have limited magicka?'_ Draco thought.

Unfortunately for Draco, the fireball hit close to him, though not directly. The impact of the fireball sent Draco back a few feet. The fireball hurt Draco and left a scorch mark on his armour, but he managed to recover quickly. As he got up, he saw flames starting to grow again on both of the hagraven's hands, but soon they flickered and went out with wisps of smoke.

 _'It seems that the tables have turned,'_ Draco thought as he drew his longsword.

Draco quickly ran across the fallen tree bridge that connects to the hagraven's nest with his sword ready. The hagraven responded by opening up its palms wide, showing the sharp talons that look like they could cut through metal, ready to fight back.

As Draco approached within its striking range, the hagraven quickly brought its claws up and swiped at Draco, but he managed to sidestep and retaliated by slashing her left bony arm. Blood oozed out of the hagraven's left arm as it howled in pain. The hagraven decided to take its revenge by swiping one of Draco's arms, but he rolled out of the way and countered again by slashing the hagraven's right arm this time. The hagraven was in rage as she prepared to strike again… only to miss once more. Compared to Draco, he was much more faster.

 _'Note to self, major weakness of hagravens is in close quarters,'_ Draco thought as he rolled out of the way of another incoming swipe. ' _Slow, sluggish, and barely have accuracy, though powerful with spells.'_

Draco spaced himself between the hagraven and went into his sword guard stance – holding his sword horizontally above his shoulder with both of his hands, blade running in front of his face and pointing forward. Both Draco and the hagraven locked gazes with each other for a brief moment. As the hagraven let out a snarl, Draco ran forward and slashed across the hagraven's neck with his sword, decapitating the hagraven as blood gushed out immediately out from the hagravens neck. Draco cleaned his sword and sheathed it before looking down at his handiwork.

 _'I never pulled off something like that for quite some time,'_ Draco thought. _'Despite the fact that its skin was tougher than any human or elf skin, the body is extremely thin. All right, next time, remember not to underestimate enemies. Exploit their weaknesses, and watch out for their strengths.'_

Draco looked around the hagraven nest and noticed a body of a dead spriggan lying on top of a brazier and two sprigaan heads mounted on sticks. He immediately felt uneasy and decided to take the dagger, Nettlebane, from underneath the hagraven's tattered black garments before heading to the Eldergleam Sanctuary.

-DF-

Draco finally reached the Eldergleam Sanctuary the next morning without even stopping to rest at all. He had to walk through rocky crags, sulfuric pools and also used his illusion magic to calm wild animals to avoid fights with them. Despite the fact that he never slept a wink throughout the journey, he did not feel tired at all. He guessed it was because he slept through the whole morning the previous day.

As he stepped into the cave, he was greeted with dimly lit passage. He walked along and soon found a bright opening with not long after. He reached the opening and slowly ascended the stone steps in front of him. After crossing the bridge over the small stream of water he had reached, he captured the breathtaking sight of the grove.

The beauty of the grove captivated him. There were plenty of trees around together with steam ejecting from geysers and waterfalls around him. In addition, he heard sounds throughout the grove that seemed to be like a melody. The grove he is in was truly a place of natural beauty. He never saw anything like this back in Valenwood. However, coming to think of it, Valenwood could have groves that are just as beautiful as this, it's just that he had never encountered them. Turning his head around, he saw the true glory of Kynareth.

The Eldergleam Tree.

The oldest living tree in Tamriel was absolutely massive with lots of pink leaves decorating its branches, sitting on the highest ground of the grove From what he had heard, the sap and amber produced by the Eldergleam Tree sang faint melodies, and it seemed to be true as he could hear it.

He broke out of his reverie after admiring the grove for a few minutes and remembered his task. As he continued his way and ascended the stairs, he soon found the path blocked by the giant roots of the Eldergleam Tree.

 _'Dammit, how do I get to the top now?'_ Draco wondered.

He paced around, racking his brain for a solution. He had to rule out the possibilities of climbing over the roots because the structure of the roots made it impossible; using magic and so is the use of weapons as the tree was extremely ancient.

 _'So much for getting the dagger Nettlebane for nothing,'_ Draco thought. Soon, an idea entered his head.

 _'Wait a minute… of course! Nettlebane!'_ Draco thought excitedly. If Nettlebane could retrieve the sap from the Eldergleam Tree, it should also be capable of making the Eldergleam give way to the path.

Whipping out the ancient dagger, Draco proceeded to swipe it at the roots of the Eldergleam. The roots immediately lifted from the path, giving way to Draco. He had to do it several times because there were some roots blocking the path. As the final obstructing root lifted up, he managed to get a close up view of the Eldergleam, and it was much more spectacular from a distance.

 _'Beautiful. Just beautiful,'_ Draco thought. _'Time for me to retrieve the sap.'_

Draco slowly walked towards the Eldergleam's trunk and prepared to give a small cut. However, the hand that held Nettlebane suddenly stopped just right a few inches away from the trunk. He felt something was wrong. Something was not right. Slowly, he moved the dagger away from the trunk and looked behind him.

Draco made his way to the roots and gave it a hard kick and waited.

The roots never went back down.

He kicked the roots again and again, but the result was the same as before.

He dropped Nettlebane from his hands upon realising what he had just done. When he had swiped the dagger at the roots, they lifted up and gave way. However, the very reason why the Eldergleam lifted its roots up not because of respect, but rather, out of fear.

He had struck fear and damaged the Eldergleam tree.

He had just harmed Kynareth himself.

His heart was filled with guilt. He had gone all the way to here just to retrieve the sap from the Eldergleam so he could repair the Gildergreen in Whiterun, because he disliked the 'dead' Gildergreen. Just because of that very reason, he decided to forsake Kynareth's true glory in moment of rashness.

Draco held the amulet of Kynareth around his neck and lifted it up for him to see. At birth, he was not a Green-Pact Bosmer, and he did not worship Y'ffre, the Forest God. The religion of Y'ffre does not allow any plants or nature to be harmed at all, and only meat can be consumed. Despite him being a child of Y'ffre, he found the god to be very restricting. Harming animals only while just letting the plants unharmed? It looked unbalanced. He felt that there should be a balance between the plants and the animals. Plants are consumed by herbivores and omnivores. Omnivores and carnivores consume herbivores. The carnivores consume omnivores. With this cycle, there will be a balance between nature and animals. This way, neither the plants nor animals would overcrowd. Hence, that was why he turned to worship Kynareth. Take what is necessary, and leave the rest alone. Respect nature.

And now, he was harming it.

Draco kneeled down and started to reflect on what he did just now. It was so wrong. It was so barbaric. He closed his eyes and focused on his thoughts.

 _'Lady Kynareth, I am now in the Eldergleam Sanctuary, a grove that is one of your precious treasures. However, when I saw the state of the Gildergreen, I could not accept it and in a moment of rashness to restore the tree, I have sinned greatly by harming the Eldergleam tree with my own hands. As one of your loyal worshippers, I accept whatever punishment or curse you lay down on me, but I also need your guidance. I cannot leave the Gildergreen in Whiterun in such a state, is there another way to restore the tree? If you can hear me, please answer me in any way possible.'_

Draco continued to kneel down and waited for answer, but none came. A minute passed by, followed by another, then followed by an hour, and then two hours. But there was still no answer, and by this time, Draco felt his knees aching badly, he wanted to get up, but he forced himself to continue kneeling.

 _'Please, Lady Kynareth, provide me with an answer. I am willing to bear any punishment you inflict on me,'_ Draco thought.

Soon, Draco heard a strange buzzing noise coming from one of the pine trees nearby and turned his head around. The buzzing noise got louder and louder, and soon, he could see a tree-like humanoid emitting green light with leaves flying around it stepping out from the shadows. Draco tried to remain calm the moment he recognised the creature.

Spriggan.

The spriggan walked towards him, but he continued to kneel down and tried to keep his hands way from his sword and from emitting magic.

 _'Don't show signs of aggression, they won't attack you,'_ Draco told himself in his head. _'Keep calm, they are just guardians of the Eldergleam Sanctuary. They represent Kynareth's wrath.'_

He took deep breaths to calm himself, but he could feel the sweat running down his head. Then, three more spriggans started emerged from the shadows within the pine trees, and by this time, his heart was beating wildly. He could feel each thumping from his heart within his chest.

 _'Don't be like this Draco, you're supposed to stay calm and keep your cool. Don't be weak!'_ he scolded himself silently.

The four spriggans approached closer, and soon, he found himself surrounded by the four spriggans. The four spriggans looked down at Draco with their intimidating glowing green eyes before looking at one another.

 _'They won't attack, won't they?'_ Draco thought.

He held his breath when the spriggans locked their gazes onto him again. The spriggans lifted up their tree-like hands towards him as green nature-like magic emitted out and flowed towards Draco. He could feel the magic energies seeping through his body as he began to tire, and he became even more tired as his body took in more and more of the magic coming from the Spriggans. His face became pale, whole body was drenched in sweat and he started to pant heavily.

 _'That's it, my life's over,'_ Draco thought. _'I have damaged one of Kynareth's greatest treasures and enraged her. Now she's going to punish me by death.'_

Draco closed his eyes as he accepted his fate. Kynareth is going to kill him for sure. However, his death never came. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that the spriggans stopped inflicting their magic on him before they retreated back to the trees. He tried to stand up, but he immediately stumbled and fell down the moment he tried to stand up. He was feeling exhausted. Sweat flowed down from his head profusely and he pantednon-stop, his whole body was very uncomfortable, felt thirsty and hungry, had a spinning headache and his vision began to blur until it impossible to see what was in front of him clearly.

 _'So this is my punishment. Severe fatigue and exhaustion,'_ Draco thought. _'Kynareth is merciful. It could be worse than this, but then again, this is no ordinary fatigue and exhaustion.'_

With his blurry vision, he moved his hands around to get his water flask and immediately uncorked it before drinking all of the contents. His flask was now empty, but the thirst did not go away.

 _'You got to stay strong, Draco,'_ he thought to himself. _'You can't afford to faint now. You still have to find a way to fix the Gildergreen. Don't faint now. Don't… don't…'_

Before he blacked out, he had a very faint vision of a sapling magically coming into view. Is that what he thought it is, or was it...


	4. Weaknesses

Chapter 4: Weaknesses

 _There was a whole lot of chaos in the Bosmer city of Silvenar as Thalmor soldiers marched up to every home and rounded up the residents. Some of the residents were chained up and taken away, some tried to flee, and some were fighting back and resisting arrest._

 _"Open up! We know you're in there!" a Thalmor agent shouted outside a small tree-like house fiercely._

 _In the home, there was a Bosmer woman with her son looking at the door in horror as the chaos outside ensued. The Bosmer woman quickly turned to her son, pointed to nearby open window and told him quickly, "There is a open window for you to escape quickly. Go! Now!"_

 _"But mother, I can't just leave you alone here to the Thalmor!" the son retorted worriedly._

 _"There is no time, I will hold them off while you make your escape!"_

 _"I can't just leave you in lurch!"_

 _"If you really care about me, then go save yourself and live!"_

 _"But..."_

 _At that very moment, the door came crashing down as several Thalmor soldiers and a hoodless Justicar entered the house. The Justicar marched up to the Bosmer woman and said, "We will not harm you, just cooperate and come with us for some questioning, and if you're honest, you will be free to go." The Justicar was clearly a female from her figure and her voice had a tone of arrogance and superiority._

 _"The so called 'questioning' includes rooting out inferior kind of our race and executing them!" the Bosmer woman shouted angrily. "We're not stupid!"_

 _"Ma'am, if you keep making things difficult for us, I'm afraid we have to resort to drastic measures," the Justicar said coldly._

 _"See if I care, there is no way I'm coming with you!"_

 _"Then I'm afraid that we will have to do this the hard way."_

 _As the Thalmor soldiers and the Justicar readied their weapons, the Bosmer woman readied her magic and fought the Thalmor with sparks of lightning and jets of flame flying around. The son of the Bosmer woman just stood rooted to the ground, having no idea what to do. His mind was in a dilemma. Should he make his escape, or should he help his mother?_

 _However, it was too late to make a decision, as the son widened his eyes when he saw the Justicar grabbing his mother and electrocuted her with a lightning palm, causing her to scream in pain, indicating her death._

Draco lifted his head up quickly, breaking in cold sweat. That nightmare hadn't haunted him in a long time, he still remembered the very day his mother was killed. It was gruelling. So much chaos, violence, and blood. His vision was currently blurry, and the smell of herbs wafted to his nose. Despite the smell of herbs, he was unsure of where he was right now.

"Easy now, don't get up so quickly," a robed figure said as she approached him. Draco found that voice familiar.

"How are you feeling?" the robed figure asked.

Draco did not answer to the robed figure's question. Instead, he rubbed his eyes as his vision slowly became clearer. Once he regained his vision, he realised that he was lying down on a familiar looking altar, feeling tired. He looked up to the robed figure and was a little surprised that it was the priestess of Kynareth, Danica Pure-Spring.

 _'Danica? Wait a minute, am I in the Temple of Kynareth?'_ Draco thought as he looked around his surroundings. Sick people lying on the few healing altars. Tiled central area with a raised cross mosaic in the floor with shallow waters filling the areas between the legs of the cross. A statue and a shrine of Kynareth at the northwest wall. Yup, it's the Temple of Kynareth.

 _'No doubt it, this is the Temple of Kynareth. If I remember correctly, I blacked out at the Eldergleam Sanctuary during my task to restore the Gildergreen, so how did I get here?'_ Draco wondered.

"Are you okay?" Danica asked again, breaking Draco's thoughts.

"I'm fine," Draco replied quickly. "But don't mind if I ask, how did I get here?"

"Around a week or more ago a young female Wood Elf came in here, carrying you on your back. Your skin was very pale and you were running a fever. Fortunately, she had some knowledge on healing and healed you a little before arriving here. She also carried your items here, and to be honest, I was really surprised that one of the items she brought was a Gildergreen sapling. I thought you were going to retrieve the Eldergleam sap but I assume you found a way to get the sapling," Danica answered.

There was too much information for Draco to take and he was shocked at some of the facts. _'A week? Someone saved me? What Gildergreen sapling?'_ he thought in disbelief, but soon tried to get a grip on himself to sort out his thoughts.

 _'Keep calm, and comprehend the information slowly,'_ Draco told himself. _'So firstly, there was this female Bosmer that healed me before bringing me to the Temple of Kynareth on her own. Okay, that female must be pretty strong if she could carry me here all the way from the Eldergleam Sanctuary. Secondly, I have been told that this female Bosmer carried me here around a week ago, so I must been in a coma for a while. Lastly, she brought my items here, and one of them included a Gildergreen sapling? I don't remember...'_ he froze at his final thought before a relief came into his head.

 _'So apparently the sapling that magically appeared I saw before blacking out was the Gildergreen sapling. Kynareth heard and answered my prayer, and she decided to test my sincerity. When she saw it, she gave me the sapling,'_ Draco thought as he thanked the goddess of the winds. Draco looked around to get a glimpse of the sapling but it was nowhere to be found in the temple.

"Where is the Gildergreen sapling now?" Draco asked Danica.

"The Jarl of Whiterun ordered the dead Gildergreen to be chopped down before us priests and priestesses planted the sapling. It now stands in the middle of the Wind District, and everyone in the Temple thanks you at the bottom of our hearts," Danica replied.

"Don't thank me. It was of my free will," Draco said. "I did this of my own accord."

"Still, I must thank you. You have taught me see the true blessing of nature."

Now Draco did not understand. What had he taught Danica?

"Umm, what did I teach you?" Draco asked.

"Apparently, I wanted the sap because it could repair the Gildergreen tree and bring in new worshippers. However, when I saw the sapling, I saw the bigger picture and the cycle of life. Some things must be waited patiently, some things must be leave nature to take its course. You have taught me that the true blessings of nature lie in renewal, not slavish maintenance, and death brings new life," Danica answered.

Draco absorbed everything Danica said. _'The blessings of nature lie in renewal. This is so true if people patiently think about it,'_ he thought. Still, he was curious, who was this Bosmer that saved him? He had to find out. He quickly asked Danica, "By the way, you said that a female Wood Elf healed and brought me here. Can you tell me who she is?" Suddenly, another thought struck him.

 _'Wait a minute, why do I want to know who saved me? It's none of my business, and I certainly did not force that Bosmer to save me either, so why am I so concerned?'_ Draco thought to himself. _'Don't be like this, Draco. You do not have the time to find your saviour and you must definitely keep your emotions in check. You did not use to be like this dammit!'_

"Hmm, sorry, I can't remember how she looks like or what she was wearing on that day," Danica answered the question Draco asked. "She did not leave a name either."

Somehow, Draco was thankful that he had no information on who had found him in the Eldergleam Sanctuary unconscious. Still, he had no time to lose and plan his next journey. He got off the healing altar and stood up, but he stumbled a little as he felt a headache before recovering his balance.

"Careful," Danica said as she helped Draco. "You haven't fully recovered yet. Try to avoid strenuous activities and don't overwork yourself. You're currently fine, but it takes a few more days for you to recover your full strength."

Draco sighed and nodded in acknowledgement before changing into his Bosmer armour and packing his things, getting ready to leave the Temple.

-DF-

Later that day, Draco wandered the whole of Whiterun to find if anyone had some work for him to do. Unfortunately for him, it appeared that no one needed anything done. Remembering that Danica said that he needed to avoid anything strenuous for a few days to recover his full strength, he decided to give up when it was dark out and rest at the local tavern, The Bannered Mare.

He was greeted with a big crowd doing various things in the tavern. Some were talking, some were quietly having their meals, some were playing card games, and some just listened to the bard playing music. The inn was a little crowded and there are also lanterns that emit various colours were hung everywhere, just like the lanterns he had seen hanging everywhere in Whiterun, and they did not look like they were part of the tavern in the first place. Still, he decided to not to think too much about it and approached the only vacant stool at the bar and ordered a bowl of vegetable soup from the barkeeper. As the barkeeper went to prepare his order, Draco observed the rest of the inn. Unlike the Frozen Hearth Inn, The Bannered Mare was bigger, much more crowded, more lively, had a bard, and the materials used to build the tavern was of much better quality. However, he still preferred the Frozen Hearth Inn, where it is usually very quiet and peaceful, while The Bannered Mare was noisier.

After his vegetable soup arrived, Draco paid for it and sipped the soup slowly as thought about his progress on his own training. So far, he had proven to himself that both his physical fitness, skill with unarmed combat and skill with the sword had dropped, and that was definitely not a good sign. Not to mention, he also felt that he had difficulty controlling his emotions and his cool-headedness. Then, he thought about his skill with magic. So far, he knew that he was really good with the school of Destruction and Illusion. However, magic is very complicated, takes a long time to master, requires vast knowledge, the skill to use spells efficiently, and magicka conservation. Draco knows that magicka conservation is something he needed to work on, because he does not wear any enchanted equipment at all, and he did not really have a large magicka pool.

 _'Maybe, I should focus on meditating for my next few days in Whiterun. Meditation helps me increase my magicka pool and since this tavern is noisy, it will serve good practice.'_ Draco thought.

After finishing his meal, Draco put his mask back on, closed his eyes and went into a deep focus. Despite the noise in the tavern, he used all his effort to block out all of the noise in order to meditate without distraction. It was initially difficult at first, but he eventually managed to do it. However, it was not long after before he was disturbed by a rough poke. He ignored it. He had a rough poke again but still decided to ignore it. Soon, he felt a rough push of his chair and fell to the ground, interrupting his meditation and causing him to open his eyes. He looked up to see a huge burly Nord towering over him, glaring.

"What was that that for?" Draco attempted to ask the Nord as calmly as possible, but there was still a little anger in his voice.

"What was that for? You have the audacity to ask me!" the Nord shouted at him. "I've been trying to get your attention to let me have your seat but you just ignored me, so I had to push you off the stool! Serves you right for ignoring me!"

Draco frowned under his mask as he stood up. This Nord wasn't just rude, he was also hot tempered.

"I was meditating just now, so I had to ignore all distractions," Draco said calmly. "Besides, I doubt demanding roughly and using violence was an appropriate way to ask someone to give up their seat."

The Nord plopped himself onto the stool and said, "What are you going to do now. Cry?"

"Crying is for cowards," Draco said coldly. "And your attitude could start up a fight anytime."

"So? You want a fight, is that right?" the Nord snarled.

The whole tavern became quiet as other patrons locked their gazes on them. Draco spied that some patrons had their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons, some looked like that they were ready to rush out of the tavern and inform a guard. He had encountered these kind of situations in the past, and some of them ended up pretty ugly. From his experience, starting a fight was not worth it.

"No, I don't want a fight," Draco said. "While I do enjoy fighting, my dislike of conflict is stronger. I also can't change your attitude either, it's only up to you. However, don't view me as a coward because I don't want to fight you." Draco realised that he should not have said the last part.

' _Dammit, why did I have to say that. I sound like I am acting tough and a showoff,'_ Draco thought.

"You're a coward. A coward. Big coward. There, I said it," the Nord taunted.

Draco just humphed and took a seat at a bench next to the fireplace. _'Why did I act that way? I knew in the beginning that the Nords are arrogant, hot tempered and enjoy fighting and violence. They are not even worth it,'_ he thought to himself. Draco closed his eyes again and tried to meditate again, but he was soon disturbed.

"Hey there," a man sitting next to Draco said. Draco opened his eyes and turned to the man sitting next to him. He had blond hair that was tied into a short low ponytail and had light coloured skin. He was also wearing a set of iron armour without the helmet.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, voice ice-cold. He instantly regretted it. _'Damn, what in Oblivion is wrong with my temper? I should not take out my anger on other people. I did not use to be like this!'_ Draco thought angrily to himself.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there," the man said sadly. "I understand how you feel. Some of us aren't that trustful of outsiders. You will find that many of us in Whiterun are tolerant of outsiders."

"Some?" Draco humphed. "More like many."

"I can assure you that most of us are tolerant of outsiders," the man tried to persuade him. "It's just that most in Eastern Skyrim are not as tolerant as the ones in Western Skyrim."

"Sometimes, you just got the accept the truth," Draco said coldly. "There is guaranteed to be racism in every single province, even Cyrodiil, which is the most racially diverse province. I have been in the province of Valenwood, Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and Skyrim has the most racism out of the three."

The man just sighed. "Well, you do have a point, but don't worry, that rough man just now was probably passing by Whiterun to celebrate Saturalia. Once Saturalia is over, people like him will not appear in Whiterun that often."

 _'Saturalia?'_ Draco thought in surprise before mentally slapping himself. _'I forgot that the Twenty-Fifth of Evening Star was just two days away! That might explain the colourful lanterns I see hanging all around Whiterun.'_ Saturalia was the time of the gift giving, parties, and parading and... it is a holiday that is basically non-existent to him, due to the fact that the last Saturalia he celebrated was around... well, he had no idea. It had been so long. The College of Winterhold does celebrate Saturalia if possible, but he passed on every single one and rather focus more on his Falmer research instead. However, the sole reason why he does not celebrate Saturalia is because he hated large crowds.

"I really hope that what you said is true," Draco said to the man before leaving the bench.

-DF-

Later that night, Draco decided to rent a room in the Bannered Mare for a total of five days. During Saturalia, it is definitely going to be lively outdoors, and he will be staying indoors to meditate and have some peace to himself. However, what baffled him is that although there was a civil war going on, events like Saturalia will still take place. He guessed that it was because Whiterun was a neutral hold, from what he heard anyway. Meanwhile, he was going to be needing relearn many things he had forgotten, and needed to have them all listed down. He went to the desk in the room, took out a writing book, a quill, and a well of ink and started to think what to write.

 _'Hmm, how should I start?'_ Draco thought. _'Maybe try to classify by writing a header first before going to the small points.'_

Draco dipped his quill into his inkwell before writing ' _Mage; Warrior; Thief; Mental'_ on the pages of the writing book, each word being bolded and huge gaps between each other. He thought for a while before filling in the smaller points and details. He continued to write and looked at the page when he was finished.

 _ **Mage:  
** -Destruction magic (Learn how to use less magicka on all types of destruction spells)_  
 _-Illusion magic (Attempt to pull invisibility consistently and quickly and create new illusion spells)_  
 _-Conjuration magic (Try to conjure up stronger types of bound swords)_  
 _-Magicka (Meditation on long hours)_

 _ **Warrior** :_  
 _-Sword fighting (Practice new moves and improve on the old ones)_  
 _-Unarmed combat (Just like the tasks with sword fighting, and attempt to break a glass bottle without hurting hand)_  
 _-Endurance (Don't tire out easily)_

 _ **Thief:  
** -Pickpocket (See if skills have dropped or improved)_  
 _-Agility (Recover from both falls and attacks quickly)_  
 _-Stealth (Practice walking without making noise)_

 _ **Mental:  
** -Keep temper in check and don't get angry or agitated_  
 _-Don't show pity_  
 _-Always be cool headed and calm_  
 _-Show no mercy on foes no matter what_

Draco looked at it a few times and felt that some of the things he listed are hard to accomplish for the next few days, and most of them fall into the mental category. He needed to get into conflicts to improve on everything listed under the mental category, and conflict was something he disliked. But then again, he had to do things he disliked in order to improve on himself. And if he were to get into a conflict, he also had to make sure that he wasn't the one who started it, otherwise he would get into serious trouble. Well, getting into conflicts are already trouble, but if he was the one who started it, the trouble would be worse, and it won't be worth it from his experience. That is unless he is completing a bounty like the one he did back in Winterhold. Hmm... maybe he could go search for bounties tomorrow, and hopefully they pay well.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Apparently, my computer recently lost all data, and so whatever I wrote for this chapter was deleted away, along with my other older stories 'In the moment of Darkness' and 'Chronicles of the Last Dragonborn'. Initially, this was supposed to be a longer chapter introducing a new character but of course whatever I wrote was gone and did not feel like rewriting that part for this chapter, but I probably will in a later chapter. Anyways, the person that saved Draco will definitely make an appearance I assure you. And the issue on racism, I feel that there is guaranteed to be racism in all provinces of Tamriel, and the reason why I think Skyrim has more racism than Cyrodiil and Valenwood because 1) Cyrodiil is the heart of the Empire, and is the most racially diverse and 2) wood elves are more jovial and lively than the other mer races, suggesting that they are friendlier to others. Anyways, I can update this story more often at the moment since school is over at the moment. And one more thing, remember to review please. I really could use them to find out how I can improve on my writing.


	5. Just a Little Lesson

Many people in Whiterun look forward to Saturalia and spend a lot of time doing shopping and preparations for the festival. However, there is one Bosmer out there who would rather ignore an advice from a healer and go outside to kill outlaws and creatures.

Draco silently skulked towards a Giant Camp in the distance in the middle of the Whiterun plains. When he woke up earlier that day, the first thing he did was to collect bounties before completing them. Two involved clearing bandit camps, and one involved killing a _Giant._ He had completed the bounties for the bandit camps, and now all left was a Giant residing in its camp.

He encountered Giants residing in their camps, minding their own business and herding their mammoths most of the time. If he remembered correctly, Giants are usually solitary humanoid creatures that prefer to be alone, but will become hostile when provoked. That reminded him of the reason for taking out the Giant was stated in the bounty, _'The Giant had been harassing and attacking citizens and visitors.'._ He guessed that there was someone who was stupid enough to offend a Giant, or probably the Giant held a grudge against people.

Draco lifted both of his hands and readied both hands with fire spells. He had heard of the Giants' brutal and devastating attacks with their clubs that are capable of sending people flying up in the air with a single strike at times, and he was planning to avoid that at all costs. This was his first time fighting a Giant, and fighting with ranged attacks seemed to be the best option.

The Giant was all alone, scratching his back with a club. It was a good chance to strike.

Draco quickly launched out firebolts towards the Giant. The Giant was taken surprise by the attack and quickly turned around to see his attacker before proceeding to run towards his attacker. However, before the Giant could even reach his attacker, he soon fell to the ground after being pelted and burnt by the huge barrage of firebolts.

Draco dispelled his fire spells and walked towards to the Giant's dead body to make sure he is dead. After confirming the kill, he thought to himself, ' _So apparently fighting them from ranged and with spells seem to be the most effective option against them. That wasn't so hard.'_

Soon, he heard two consecutive guttural roars coming from behind. Draco turned his head around, only to see two angry Giants waving their huge clubs madly, angry at him for killing their brethren.

 _'Hold on, I thought the bounty stated that there was only one Giant, not three,'_ Draco thought and prepared his fire spells.

As the angry Giants ran towards him, Draco focused on one of the Giants first and rained firebolts at it, while at the same time trying to put himself as far away as possible from them. However, it was rather difficult as one footstep of a Giant was much bigger than one footstep of a Bosmer. Soon, another Giant fell to Draco's pyromancy, but the last Giant continued to give chase.

And unfortunately for Draco, flames in his hands had extinguished, indicating that he was out of magicka at the moment. Draco thought of the second best option - his throwing daggers. He had twelve of them attached to him in total, each gauntlet was strapped with three daggers and six were strapped onto his body armour, with three on each of his sides. Since he was not particularly fantastic with a bow despite the fact that he was a Bosmer, his destruction magic and the throwing daggers were his substitute ranged weapons. He quickly pulled out a steel dagger off a strap on his left gauntlet, took aim at the giant's head, and then threw it. The dagger flew and hit directly at the Giant's head but did not seem fazed one bit at all. Instead, the Giant just pulled out the dagger and threw it to the ground. That only left with one option - run away.

Draco quickly turned around and ran as fast as he could while at the same time having to vault over rocks and other obstacles that got in his way. However, he tripped over a rock by accident, stumbled over and fell. His legs started to feel a bit numb, and that was the result for not listening to a healer. Draco looked back and widened his eyes when he saw the giant's huge club come crashing down on him. He quickly rolled over and evaded the club before getting up. The Giant growled again and gave another swing with the club. Draco barely escaped that swing and quickened his footsteps, but then something came to his mind.

 _'Why in Oblivion am I trying to run away? It's not that like I am crippled or paralysed or unable to fight. Running away from battle while being perfectly fine is for cowards! No matter what, I cannot run away from this battle. I have to fight until one of us remains standing!'_ Draco thought angrily to himself.

Draco turned around to face the Giant before drawing out his ivory sword, entered his guarding stance and then observed the Giant carefully. _'Powerful strikes and long range with the club, but slow and sluggish in swinging it. Evade the strikes when the club starts to go down. Be quick as possible as I may only have about a few seconds before I get crushed. Then while the Giant recovers, unleash a counter attack.'_

Draco kept his eyes focused on the Giant's club, not letting it leave his sight. Every time the Giant swung the club towards Draco, he rolled out of the way and unleashed a flurry of slashes at one of the Giant's leg, whichever one is nearer to him. He repeated his tactic over and over until the Giant was down on one knee, back bent down low enough for him to jump on it. Once Draco saw that, he took the opportunity to jump on the Giant's back and then drove his sword into it. The Giant howled in pain as it stood up, struggling to get the Bosmer off its back. Draco tried to hold on as long as the could with his sword stabbing into the Giant's back. The Giant started running around and used its hands to swipe Draco off his back, which it successfully did. Draco fell to the ground and groaned in pain as he tried to get back up. He saw that the poor Giant was still struggling to pull his sword off its back, but its hands were unable to reach for the sword. Soon, the Giant collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, dying from excessive blood loss.

Draco walked over to the Giant and yanked out his sword from the Giant's back before shaking the blood off. It was really a pity that he had to kill three pacifist Giants just for a bag of gold, but the world was all about the survival of the fittest. It is to kill, or be killed. He tried to not feel any pity for it, though it was hard. He remembered that back in Valenwood and Cyrodiil, he killed a lot of creatures and people without feeling anything for them, and now in Skyrim, he needed to be like that again.

-DF-

By the time he reached back to Whiterun, it was already late in the evening and almost everyone was excited to celebrate Saturalia the next day. However, this was not the case for Draco. While everyone in the Bannered Mare was chatting excitedly about the festival, he was sitting in a dark corner, minding his own business and drinking his tea all alone by himself. At that moment, a girl that was sitting by the fire caught his attention. Despite only meeting her once and having knocked out for a week, he could still remember who she was. It was the girl that begged him for coin when he was looking at the state of the Gildergreen. Draco looked around for a while, and when he was sure that no one was looking at him, he got up from his seat, walked over to the bar and dropped a few septims in front of the innkeeper.

"Give that girl over there something to eat," Draco said to the innkeeper, "but don't tell her that I paid for it."

The innkeeper nodded as she collected the gold before going back to what she was doing. Draco returned back to his seat and continued to drink his tea quietly. But no longer than a few sips, he heard a commotion.

"Hey! What was that for!" a male gruff voice called out.

"I'm truly sorry, I really didn't mean to dirty your clothes," a apologetic female voice followed.

"Sorry, I say that you are doing it on purpose!"

Draco looked up to see what was going on. Apparently, there was a burly Nord losing his temper at the barmaid that accidentally spilled some mead on his clothes. The Nord's clothes didn't look so classy or expensive whatsoever, so Draco had no idea what was the Nord's problem. However, something about the Nord seemed familiar, Draco took a closer look at the Nord's face and recognised him immediately. It was the same Nord that pushed him off his seat the day before.

"I really, really sorry!" the barmaid continued to apologise.

"You think you can get away with apologising, is that it?" the Nord's tone was rising, and he had lifted up his clenched right fist.

Everyone that was around the two of them distanced themselves from the conflict. The innkeeper along with some patrons tried to dissuade the Nord from what he was about to do, but the Nord wasn't having any of it.

"I absolutely dislike people like you, always refusing the admit the things they do and always saying sorry," the Nord continued.

"Please, I really didn't mean to..."

"Oho, saying that again?" The Nord lifted up his fist and flung it towards the barmaid's face... only for it to be stopped by someone who grabbed his wrist.

The Nord turned his head around to see the person that stopped him from punching the barmaid. He was a Wood Elf wearing an exotic leather armour, had an ivory sword at his hilt, and had a claw scar on the left side of his face. And apparently, he was rather tall for a Wood Elf, seeing that both of them were about the same height.

"No need to get rough," Draco said calmly. "You could have resolved the conflict by just accepting her apology."

The Nord looked at Draco from head to toe before replying, "I remember you. You're the coward who claims he enjoys fighting but dislike conflict. What is it now? You want to start up a fight this time?"

"No, I just feel that what you're doing right now is unnecessary," Draco said.

"Really?" the Nord sneered as he studied Draco carefully. "Oh, I see where this is coming from. You just want to play the knight saving the damsel in distress."

Draco let out a light sigh. "Like I said a few days ago, I cannot change people's views and attitudes towards me. However, I know exactly what I am doing and I have nothing to hide."

"Know what you're doing eh?" the Nord sneered before punching straight into Draco's gut. Panic aroused in the inn as the patrons got out from their seats and kept their distance from the fight that was going to intensify.

"I'm assuming that you're going to bash me up, is that right?" Draco said as he clutched his torso, hiding his pain from the punch. He could not believe that he actually did not see that coming.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson for minding too much into people's business," the Nord said as he cracked his knuckles.

Draco knew how bad it is going to be if he actually fought back. So, he thought of the next best possible option - block and evade.

The Nord threw out a punch to Draco's face, but Draco ducked under it and rolled away. The Nord, annoyed that he had missed his target, ran up towards Draco and aimed for his chest, only for Draco to sidestep, resulting in himself stumbling upon missing the hit, knocking into a wooden table. The table was knocked over, and the Nord fell to the ground, groaning. He looked back up at Draco, expression stoic, looking like that he was waiting for another strike. The Nord let out a shout as he got up before charging with his head aiming at Draco's stomach. This time, Draco leapt out of the way, causing the Nord's head to crash into a shelf. Given that the Nord was not wearing any protective headwear, his head hurt really bad and rubbed it hard.

Draco sighed as he looked at the Nord. He was being way too predictable.

The Nord's face was red as an apple, clearly a sign of rage. He quickly got up again and tried to knee Draco in the groin, but he blocked it effortlessly with his right arm. The Nord then threw out a flurry of punches and kicks, all being blocked easily by Draco. However, the Nord's attacks pinned Draco towards a corner, giving him very little space to move around. Draco tried to move away from the walls, but at a certain instance, he was caught off guard and a fist landed directly into his face.

Draco stumbled backwards and his vision blurred for a brief moment. By the time his vision became clear again, he saw another fist coming towards his face. Upon seeing it, Draco grabbed his adversary's fist, jumped and rolled over his back before delivering a hard kick to it, causing his adversary to crash into a chair, breaking it in the process. At the same time,Draco quickly rolled away, spacing himself from the Nord. The Nord stood up again, grinning slightly.

"So you finally decided to fight back. Good, I was just getting warmed up," the Nord said as he recovered from the pain in his back.

 _'So much for blocking and evading,'_ Draco thought to himself. _'I attacked him, and this is going to turn into a huge brawl. I could simply just walk to the exit right now, but it's blocked by some patrons. It seems fighting him is the only thing I can do right now.'_ Draco took a small breath before entering his hand-to-hand fighting stance.

Both the Nord and Draco circled around, studying each other and waiting for the perfect moment to make a move. After a while, the Nord charged towards Draco with fists at ready. Draco ran forward a little to gain a little momentum before doing a forward roll leading to upward kicks with both of his legs to the Nord's chin, leading Draco into a handstand position. The Nord seemed to little dizzy from the kicks, and then from Draco's handstand position, he used the strength in his arms to push himself upwards, leading to another pair of kicks to the Nord's face, causing Draco to get back standing on his both feet, and the Nord stumbling over, falling to the ground. At this point, there are some patrons who seemed excited to see the slowly intensifying fight, while some are becoming fearful. There was also some cheering and booing from the crowd.

The Nord stood up again and dived for Draco's legs, but alas, Draco caught his hand, rolled backwards together with the Nord until he was on top of him before slamming down a no nonsense punch to his face. Draco got off the Nord before the he had a chance to retaliate. The Nord had to grab a nearby table for support to help himself up before snarling, "I won't let myself get beaten up by a pathetic and frail tree-hugger!"

The Nord charged and sort of hugged Draco as he tried to push Draco towards the wall. Draco punched and elbowed the Nord hard, trying to push to the Nord away. The crowd got wilder and livelier at the fight. Both fighters struggled for victory, and then...

"What's going on in here!" an angry voice echoed the entire inn.

The whole inn quietened down by a large margin. Both Draco and the Nord however, are oblivious to what's going around them and continued to fight.

"ENOUGH!"

Both Draco and the Nord separated themselves and looked up to see a few Whiterun guards in front of them, faces hidden behind their helmets.

"Both of you! You're arrested for disturbing the peace!" the frontmost guard growled.

Draco sighed as he allowed himself to be taken away by the guards. The Nord however, protested until one of the guards knocked him out cold with a fist. As the guards dragged him to the Dragonsreach dungeon, his thoughts went back to what had happened in the inn. He paid a meal for a homeless girl, and stopped the Nord from beating the barmaid. He felt strange for trying to help people he did not know. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he was quite helpful towards his colleagues and friends during his time in the College of Winterhold and forgot to adjust back to the outside world. In the outside world, no one knows who he is, they will never _care_ about what's going on in his life, and don't even appreciate help they get. Or perhaps, it may be because that no one knows who he is, so he could help people without risking to have his identity known. His mother often told him to help those who are truly in need.

 _'Oh mother, if you had opened your eyes a little wider, you would realise how horrible the world is. I know why you want to drill the message about helping those in need into my head, but there are some people out there who will take advantage of that very kindness, which will lead to our own downfall,'_ Draco thought.

But whatever reason it is, it does not matter at this point. The damage had been done, and he is going to the prisons anyway.

-DF-

After having all his belongings taken away and his armour replaced with ragged prison clothes, Draco was thrown into one of the prison cells in the Dragonsreach Dungeon without any trial. From what the prison guard told him, the trial is going to take place next morning, since the Jarl was busy that evening, probably with the arrangements on the celebration of Saturalia. In his prison cell, there was barely anything, just a sleeping cot, a wooden plate for food and a tankard for water, just like all the other cells. Still, prison was not so bad for him. There was a sleeping cot for him, and both food and water were provided. Too bad he already paid for the rental of his room in the Bannered Mare and he was not able to use it, but he can't complain anyway, since he knew it was his own fault for getting into a fight. However, if there is one good thing in this prison, is that it was rather quiet and peaceful compared to the outside.

"I'M TELLING YOU I'M INNOCENT!"

Well, at least until unreasonable prison mates act up anyway.

"LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

And unfortunately, Draco's cell was just next to the Nord's whom he got into a fight earlier.

"DO YOU HEAR ME? I AM INNOCENT! SO LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Draco slammed his fist into the wall that was next to the Nord and responded, "Why don't you just shut up and stop disturbing the peaceful atmosphere?"

"NO, YOU SHUT UP! IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU I GOT LOCKED UP HERE!" came the response.

Draco sighed. _'Not the first time I met these kind of people. Arguing with people like these will get nowhere',_ he thought as the Nord continued his protest that failed very miserably.

"If you continue to shout and scream in here, I will make your sentence heavier!" came a response from a guard.

Still, the Nord turned to a deaf ear, and that resulted in him getting knocked out by the guards the second time that day. Draco was more than happy that the Nord was knocked out, having the silence return to the cells. And then he remembered what he had needed to do every time the day ended - relearn everything he knew. Since he almost had nothing with him, honing his skill in magic seems to be the only option.

Draco took a deep breath and sat down crossed legged with his palms closed together. Slowly, he raised his left palm let off a gout of fire.

"Hey, are you planing on burning the entire dungeon!" Draco heard a guard calling out angrily.

Draco sighed and extinguished his fire spell. _'Maybe I should work a bit on cryomancy,'_ he thought.

Taking another deep breath, he let out a tiny vortex of frost out of his palm before starting to play around with it, such as making tiny ice shards fly out of the swirling vortex of ice, and turning the solid frost into liquid water before turning it back to solid ice again. As he continued to play around with the ice, he thought about what he told Faralda back at the College of Winterhold: he sucked at cryomancy.

Thinking about it again, his knowledge and performance on cryomancy was actually really good, even better than his electromancy, but only based on High Elf standards. However, if his skill on cryomancy were to be compared with the Ancient Falmer, or Snow Elves, what he could do is nothing compared to them. Thinking about the Ancient Falmer again made him sigh.

It was a pity that such a great race was close to extinction. He had done a lot of research on the poor Falmer, their tragic history, and the fate and ordeal they went through. Back at his College's Saarthal expedition, he had witnessed really terrible things...

 _The entire chamber Draco was standing in was filled with lots of decayed corpses of both the Atmorans and Ancient Falmer alike. It bothered him for a bit before regaining his composure. Before he entered the very chamber he was in, the previous hallways did not have much corpses strewn around, mostly ruined architecture and coffins._

 _Long before he stepped into the chamber he was in now, his Alteration professor, Tolfdir, tasked him to help another College professor to find any magical artefacts he found. He started off with a few enchanted gold rings, until he saw an ancient amulet on the wall. He did not give much thought to it and just pulled it off the wall. However, the moment he did just that, the portcullis behind him slammed shut, trapping him inside the room he was standing in. Thinking that the amulet must have something to do with the trap, he wore it around his neck, which then showed a resonance coming from a part of the wall that looked different from the others._

 _It did not much effort or time for him to destroy the wall with a bolt of fire, which revealed a secret passageway, at the same time lifting up the portcullis that was slammed shut earlier. Without anyone's consent, he walked along the passage, which strangely led to a chamber with no further path. In that chamber, there were three coffins with moss growing on them, along with a stone table in the middle._

 _'Strange,' Draco thought, 'Why did this chamber get sealed off if it just only had three coffins and a table?'_

 _At that moment, his vision got brighter and brighter, up to the point where he had to partly shield his eyes from the light. The moment the light dimmed, his entire vision changed to have a blue tint. And at that very moment, a figure slowly materialised in front of his very eyes, but with the stone table standing in between them._

 _Draco was astonished at what just happened and then blinked his eyes a few times before taking a closer look at the figure. From what he could tell, the figure's height and pointy ears gave away the fact that he was likely a male Altmer, and he was wearing hooded yellow robes that had strange patterns on them._

 _'Who is he?' Draco wondered. 'Why did he appear before me? What did he want?'_

 _"Hold mage, and listen well," the Altmer man began. "Know that you have set in a motion of events that cannot be stopped."_

 _"Events? What events?" Draco asked._

 _The Altmer man ignored him and continued, "Judgement has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgement will be passed on your actions to come, and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you."_

 _"Danger? What danger?"_

 _The Altmer man ignored Draco again and continued, "This warning is passed to you because the Psjic Order believes in you. You mage, and you alone, have the potential to prevent disaster. Take great care, and know that the Order is watching." Afterwards, the Altmer man dematerialised before Draco's vision lost it's blue tint._

 _At that point, Draco was confused at what had just happened. The Psijic Order? Who are they? He's going to have to ask Tolfdir later. And what about the danger ahead of him? Why did he have the potential to prevent disaster? Why did this Psijic Order contact him instead of solving this disaster themselves? What did it have to do with him? He hated having to be the one to be the 'Chosen one' to save the day. If everyone depended on the 'Chosen one' to solve conflicts and disasters, everyone else will grow weak because they will all pin hopes on the 'Chosen one' and neglect themselves._

 _But that did not matter much to him at the moment, what's more important is to find out what was the 'danger' ahead of him._

 _As Draco went to check the coffins, the lids burst open, each revealing an angry draugr with a weapon in their bony hands, furious the fact that someone woke them up from their ancient slumber._

 _These draugr were not an issue for Draco, and in a flash, the rotting corpses collapsed to the ground with charred bones, and proceeded down the long tunnel that was just revealed itself, behind a dragur coffin._

 _After coming out of the tunnel, he found himself in a large circular room. There were a lot more coffins in this room than the previous one. Each coffin was leaning against the wall in the circular room. There was also a door behind a portcullis and a chain beside it at the end of the room._ _However, the moment Draco took another step forward, the coffins popped open and more draugr walked out of them, brandishing their weapons._

 _Draco quickly surrounded his entire body with a cloak of fire and then brandished out his ivory sword. He then charged towards one of the draugr and rammed his sword into its chest before pulling it out, killing it. After making his kill, Draco turned around to see the rest of the draugr closing upon him. Taking a breath, he charged forward and performed an overhead slash on the front most draugr, weakening it before it burnt to ashes with his flame cloak. Draco counted that there were six lesser draugr left. He took a deep breath and rushed into the middle of the draugr group, making full use of his flame cloak to stun and burn them._

 _That did the trick. All of the draugr were trying to put out the fire on their bodies instead of fighting Draco, leaving themselves vulnerable to the brutal slashes of Draco's sword. After finishing off the last of the draugr, Draco put out his flame cloak and approached the end of the room before pulling the chain to lift up the portcullis and then opened the door, leading him into the chamber he was currently standing in._

 _Corpses. Everywhere._

 _Draco continued forward and killed whatever draugr he saw on sight. Occassionally along the way, he encountered a few unrest Ancient Falmer ghosts that attacked him on sight. Draco sent them all to their rest. He also solved a few puzzles along the way, though they were all very easy to figure out anyway. Draco continued to walk until the found himself in front of a magical barrier, sealing his way into the next chamber. Behind the magical barrier, Draco could see some large strange orb orbiting and levitating above the ground, along with some ghosts that seem to be doing some magic on it._

 _'Was this the danger that the Psijic guy was talking about?' Draco thought._

 _He attempted to break the barrier with various spells and means but no avail. Then, he had noticed that there was a soul gem behind the magical barrier, resting on a small stand. There was magic flowing from the soul gem towards the magic barrier. Draco decided to cast large explosive fireballs on the magic barrier, hoping that the impact of the fireballs could knock the soul gem off its stand. The soul gem lost some of its balance for each fireball that hit the magical barrier. After some time, Draco successfully managed to knock the soul gem off its stand, disabling the magical barrier that stood in his way._

 _However, the moment Draco broke the magical barrier, he could see that the ghosts surrounding the strange orb stopped casting magic on it, and they seem to be in a panic. Draco rushed into the chamber and took a closer look at the ghosts. Apparently, they were unrest Ancient Falmer ghosts._

 _He wondered why these ghosts were tampering with the orb earlier, but it was not long before he found the answer. There was a heavily armoured draugr sitting on a throne in front of an altar at the ground floor of the room. The draugr stood up and picked up the staff on the altar before turning to face the Ancient Falmer ghosts. The draugr raised its staff before blasting a wave of magic on the Ancient Falmer ghosts. The Ancient Falmer ghosts shrieked in pain, before their spectral figures started to distort and flow into the draugr's staff. Draco widened at his eyes at what he just saw, but he was even more horrified when he heard the staff screaming. It did not sound like the pain of a small group of Ancient Falmer, but rather, a community of them._

 _The draugr walked forward towards the strange orb before casting a spell on it with its staff. Whatever the draugr did, it reversed whatever the ghosts did to the orb. The runes of the strange orb started to glow before opening up, revealing bright blue light and magic started to flow out and towards the draugr. The draugr started to have a blue glow and it was laughing evilly. Then, the draugr turned around and locked its beady blue glowing eyes on Draco's green ones. Draco froze when they locked gazes at each other._

Draco snapped out of his thoughts and went back to the present. _'What I saw and heard that day was horrible,'_ Draco thought. ' _Those Snow elves... their souls...'._ Draco tried to get back to practicing his cryomancy, but his thoughts soon went back to what he saw at Saarthal. Still, he wondered up till this day on what the Psijic Monk had said to him. What kind of danger he was supposed to stop anyway? It has been a few years since the Saarthal expedition and nothing special happened after that.

After a while, he just gave up thinking up of theories and answers and slept on his prison cot instead, preparing for his trial tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, failed to keep my promise again. I have been playing TES Legends a few months ago and I got addicted to it. Reached 410th position in Legend in the March season after a lot of grinding and I almost forgot about this story. But no matter what happens, I will not give up on this story. I will make a bigger effort to find time to write this story out and try to update more often. And of course, this story gets updated faster if I can get motivation, and for me to get motivation, I hope you readers will review and state your thoughts on it. Most importantly, I hope I can get at least some criticism on which areas of my writing where I can improve.


	6. Caution

Despite being the smallest hold of all in terms of land area, Haafingar holds the jewel of Skyrim, the city of Solitude, capital of Skyrim. Solitude was a beautiful city that sits on a great stone arch that towers over the opening of the Karth River, surrounded by the mountains of Haafingar. Highly reinforced, home to a shipping port, buildings made from high quality stone, it is little wonder that the wealthiest citizens of Skyrim live in that city. Unfortunately, the former High King of Skyrim and Jarl of Solitude passed away, and the one that now takes his place as the Jarl was his wife, the inexperienced and incompetent Elisif.

And her incompetence in ruling a hold results in increased illegal activities and businesses, one of them being an illegal underground brawling arena.

"When's the next fight starting? I did not come all the way here for nothing!"

"I have already placed my bet, why in Oblivion has the fight not started!"

"These organisers better not test my patience…"

As the crowd surrounding a square fighting ring started to grow restless, a voice boomed throughout the entire arena.

"Welcome! Welcome everyone! This is the Oblivion Arena! Some of you come here to place your bets on our best fighters and earn some coin. Some of you come here to watch a good fight. Some of you come here for reasons unknown. But no matter! You all come here to watch a fight, and a fight we shall have!" the announcer boomed through a metal cone shaped megaphone.

The large crowd cheered wildly, looking forward to watch the fight that they had been promised.

"Now, enough of the talk shall we?" the announcer said. "It's time to introduce our fighters! Our first fighter, he who has not joined long ago, but he has yet to lose any fight yet. Let us welcome, the Wandering Wolf!"

On the left side of the arena, a door opened and an Imperial with short brown hair stepped out as people cheered around him. He gave a wave before stepping into the ring. He wore one of the standard arena attire, a pair of blue long pants with the symbol of the 'Oblivion Arena' sewn onto the sides.

"Now, for the next challenger, the Argonian who is arguably the best Argonian fighter we have, capable of breaking limbs and some of our fighters packing. Let us welcome, Blackwood's Best!"

An even louder cheer erupted from the crowd, and a huge as well as muscular Argonian stepped out of the door on the right side of the Arena before stepping into the ring. He had blue eyes, green scales, and bright green Argonian 'hairs' protruding out of his head leaning back. Like the Imperial, he wore the same standard arena attire, only difference is that the colour of the pants was beige. Both the Argonian and the Imperial locked gazes with each other, studying each other carefully, locating their strengths and weaknesses.

"Like all those I had faced, you are also going down," the Imperial hissed arrogantly to the Argonian.

"Hmph. Good luck then," was all the Argonian's reply.

Both fighters spaced each other and got into their fighting stances, waiting for the cue to start the fight. After a short talk about the arena rules by the announcer, the ring of a bell was heard.

The fight started off with the Argonian cross-slashing the Imperial with both of his arms, causing the Imperial to be in a sit down position. The Argonian quickly to advantage of the Imperial's vulnerability by hauling his entire body up until it was over the Argonian's head, and then threw him into the arena ropes. There was a loud cheer from the crowd when the Argonian did that. However, the Imperial was not fazed by it one bit.

Despite the pain in his body, the Imperial charged forward and attempted to do a sweep on the Argonian. The Argonian stumbled a little but before he could recover, the Imperial charged forward again and grabbed the Argonian's neck before kneeing his torso three times, with the last knee sending the Argonian away. The Argonian quickly got up before the Imperial had a chance to strike again. When the Imperial charged forward, the Argonian took him by surprise by bending down and charged for his legs, tackling down the Imperial to the position where the Argonian is mounted on him. Before the Imperial could escape, the Argonian punched into the Imperial's face three times before banging his head with his own one three times. The Argonian quickly got up and spaced away from the Imperial to avoid any more attacks from coming from the lying Imperial, as well as to recover a bit of his energy.

The moment the Imperial got up, the Argonian quickly tackled him once more and did the same thing – punching the face thrice before slamming his head down on his thrice before getting up again. The Imperial got up and stayed guarded against the Argonian for another tackle, but instead, the Argonian grabbed his body and laid him laying on the ground, grabbed his right leg and yanked it hard. The Imperial squealed to the pain that surged through his leg, but the Argonian was not done yet.

Having the Imperial's right leg still in his hands, the Argonian placed the Imperial between his legs and yanked it up again, sending another surge of pain into the Imperial. Finally, the Argonian made sure that the Imperial's lying body did not remain between his own legs, and then with the Imperial's leg still in his hands, the Argonian swung the leg around in circles a few times, each cycle lifting the Imperial up higher in the air and then dropped the grip on the Imperial's leg, resulting the Imperial to crash into one of the ropes of the ring.

The Imperial groaned in pain and tried to get up, but he couldn't. After seeing the Imperial's condition and the announcer started the countdown, the Argonian let down his guard and took a few breaths. However, the Imperial would not accept defeat easily.

Seeing the Argonian's guard being let down, the Imperial quickly got up silently and dived for the Argonian's legs. Unfortunately for the Imperial, the Argonian was able to react in time and grabbed the Imperial's body and threw him up. As the Imperial yelped while being airborne, the Argonian grabbed one of the Imperial's legs and slammed the entirety of the Imperial's body down on the ground. The Imperial ended up having a black eye, a bleeding nose and crooked teeth. His eyes twitched a little before they closed, a sign of the Imperial becoming unconscious.

"Hmph, the face of death…" mumbled the Argonian after observing the Imperial's broken state.

"And we have a winner! Blackwood's Best!" came the announcer.

There was a huge roar from the crowd as they cheered for the Argonian. Obviously, some were were unhappy about it and jeered, but they were the minority. Still, the Argonian ignored the crowd and the announcer as he got off the ring and returned to the rooms for the fighters. As he entered the room, his manager - a medium sized Nord man with brown hair, greeted him.

"Nice work Tee-Kaijin," he said as he handed the Argonian a pouch of septims.

The Argonian took the pouch from him and counted the gold inside _. 'Hundred septims. Not usually what I earned from an average match nowadays but better than nothing,'_ he thought. He pocketed the pouch and asked him, "Are there going to be more fights arranged for me, sir?"

"I'm afraid your next fight is not going to be that soon," he replied. "It may be as long as about a week or more, during this time being, you can leave the Arena and do whatever you want, as you always do."

The Argonian, Tee-Kaijin gave a nod of acknowledgement as I proceeded to one of the benches and sat down before sighing. If it was not for the fact that he needed the money for his elder brother who is still in Cyrodiil and is also mentally ill, the fact that he needed to find a new place to live in Skyrim and the fact that he lost his previous job, he would not have become a fighter for this illegal underground brawling Arena, run by some greedy power-hungry noble.

He tried to take up as much jobs as possible ever since he stepped into the harsh cold lands of Skyrim due to the fact that he could not find an appropriate stable job for himself in Cyrodiil, but it was definitely not easy. So far, fighting in the 'Oblivion Arena' seems to be the most appropriate and most stable source of income he could get, but at times he would still leave the Arena to do mercenary work whenever he does not have a fight any time soon.

He soon got up from his bench and entered the changing room. The changing room was filled with various fighters and they were all chatting with one another, ignoring his presence. Tee-Kaijin just proceeded to get his belongings and decided to change into his battle armour.

After finding his belongings, Tee-Kaijin scrutinized the condition of his weapons and armour. His set of fine Imperial steel armour without the helm was a little worn out due to its age, and the symbol of an axe and sword crossing each other like an 'X' with a withered tree behind was barely visible on the middle of the cuirass. It did not matter to him anyway, as long as it's usable, it can still protect him. After Tee-Kaijin donned his armour, he picked up his fine Imperial steel claymore and gave it a few swings.

'Still in good shape,' Tee Kaijin thought before heaving the claymore over his back with a single arm.

"Hey, Tee! Leaving so soon?"

Tee-Kaijin turned around to see an Imperial fighter approaching towards him. He had short black hair and blue eyes. He recognised him.

"Hey Elmo, what's up?"

"You were awesome back there!" Elmo replied excitedly. "I never saw you pull off that much grapples and throws back there before."

"That's because my opponent was weak."

"It does not matter whether your opponent was weak or not. All I wanted to say that you were impressive," Elmo said. He then looked at Tee-Kaijin's current gear and asked, "By the way, you are leaving the Oblivion Arena?"

"I don't have any matches for at least a week, so I better get out there and take up as much work as possible, like I have always did," Tee-Kaijin replied.

"That's a pity then," Elmo said. "I was hoping that you could teach me a few new moves and tactics."

"I will still return to the Arena and squeeze in the time to teach you," Tee-Kaijin replied.

Elmo's eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Yes. After all, I was the one that introduced you here to the Oblivion Arena," Tee-Kaijin replied.

"Thank you so much!"

"Don't mention it. Now if you excuse me, I need to get going."

Tee-Kaijin stepped out of the doors of the Oblivion Arena and was greeted by the fresh breeze of the Sea of Ghosts. It was a very refreshing feeling, considering that he spent some time underground. After taking a few deep breaths, he set his eyes on the city of Solitude and walked up the hill.

-DF-

 _The pain surged into his body once more as the ancient draugr Jyrik Gauldurson swung his axe upwards onto Draco. Although he tried blocking with his sword, the axe still was able to break through Draco's guard and struck his torso, ripping open part of his college robes and leaving a wide gash on his torso._

 _Draco quickly picked himself to avoid another downward swing of the axe coming from Jyrik Gauldurson. Taking advantage of Jyrik's missed strike, Draco quickly laid down two slashes on Jyrik's corpse before backing off, avoiding the wide swing of Jyrik's axe just in time._

 _Draco then quickly casted a few fire spells on Jyrik, but it did not do anything to the rotting corpse of Jyrik Gauldurson, just like the early part of the battle where he unleashed a barrage of firebolts and it hard scratched the draugr._

 _Jyrik sheathed his axe and then waved his arms around, leaving traces of lightning surging through his body. Instead of charging towards Jyrik with his sword, Draco quickly casted a ward to prepare blocking the spell. Jyrik then slammed his palm on the ground._

 _A huge nova of electricity blasted off from Jyrik. Draco's ward was broken, but the impact of the shock was too great that it caused him to lose his footing and had his body slammed against the wall._

 _A sharp pain stung his back. Draco quickly tried to get up, but he stumbled a little. He was getting tired. And Jyrik was not even fazed at all. Determined not to die, Draco raised his sword and charged towards Jyrik._

 _Steel and ivory clashed. Draco was up close to the powerful draugr, attempting to break through Jyrik's guard. With a bit more strength, Draco brought down his sword further and successfully broke Jyrik's guard. Taking advantage of Jyrik's recovery, Draco quickly laid down quick slashes, but in less than four slashes, Jyrik suddenly punched Draco's face with his empty left hand. As Draco stumbled, Jyrik kicked him to the ground, picked him up, dragged his body across the ground in circles and threw him towards the wall._

 _Draco could feel his robes ripping and skin burning when Jyrik dragged him across the floor, and when he was slammed against the wall again, his entire body felt numb._

' _Get up,' a voice told him in his head._

 _Draco really wanted to get up, but he couldn't._

' _Get up'._

 _Draco saw Jyrik walking towards him._

' _Get. up'._

 _Jyrik's blue eyes glowed even brighter, as well as an evil smile forming on his face._

' _Get up!'_

 _Jyrik raised his axe._

' _Get! Up!'_

 _The axe fell down on him._

"GET UP!"

Draco opened his eyes and looked around. He was still lying on his cot, in the Dragonsreach dungeons. He turned his head around and saw a few Whiterun guards standing in front of him, his prison cell unlocked as well.

"Enough sleep? Good, get yourself moving to the Jarl's court," the frontmost guard said without waiting for Draco's answer.

-DF-

Just a few minutes later, Draco found himself in the main hall of Dragonsreach. The hall was brightly lit with fires lighted on wide braziers, there were yellow banners hanging on the walls and from the ceilings, painted with the symbol of Whiterun - the head of a horse. He had to admit, he was surprised that the palace of Whiterun, Dragonsreach was primarily made from wood. The whole palace could easily catch fire. Other than that, there are two long dining tables cluttered with silverware and in between the two tables, there is a pit of fire. At the furthest end of the grand hall, there was a Nord with long blonde hair and beard. He is wearing a gold circlet with a central ruby gemstone over his head, and as well as wearing expensive looking robes. Draco assumed that the Nord sitting on the throne now is the Jarl of Whiterun. On both sides of the Jarl, there is a female Dunmer redhead donning in leather armour with a steel sword at her hilt and there is an Imperial wearing upper class clothing. The three of them seemed to be having a discussion.

Soon, the guardsmen that were hauling both Draco and the Nord he fought in the inn the day before halted for some distance from the Jarl's throne. No one moved for a while until the Jarl stopped his conversation and looked at their direction and gave a nod. The prison warden stepped forward and bowed.

"So is this about two people fighting and causing trouble in the Bannered Mare yesterday?" the Jarl queried.

"Yes, it is," the prison warden replied. "A Nord and a Wood Elf causing trouble in the inn. Broke a few furniture, and disturbed the peace."

"Very well, bring them forward," the Jarl replied.

Rather than letting them move forward by their own, the guards who were holding Draco and the other Nord he fought pushed them forward instead. Even though his own hands are tied, Draco was still able to keep his balance, but it was not so much for the other Nord. He tripped and on the steps and fell to the ground with a thud.

"Hey! No need to get rough! I can move by myself!" the Nord snarled as he got back on his feet.

"Quiet!" the prison warden shouted.

"It's okay Strolof, no need to be fierce. The guardsmen shouldn't have pushed the prisoners in the first place," the Jarl said.

"Sorry, Jarl Balgruuf," the prison warden apologised and stepped back.

Jarl Balgruuf set his eyes on the Nord beside him and asked, "So what's your name?"

"I am Torying Face-Smasher, you better well remember that," the Nord spat.

"How dare you disrespect the Jarl!" the female Dunmer beside Jarl Balgruuf shouted angrily as she drew her steel sword.

"No Irileth, put that down," Jarl Balgruuf intervened.

"Sorry Balgruuf," the Dunmer apologised as she sheathed her sword.

Jarl Balgruuf then turned his head to Draco and observed him before scratching his chin. From the way Jarl Balgruuf looked at him, Draco somewhat felt the need to be cautious with what he says.

"Your name?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

Draco did not reply immediately and debated in his mind if telling his name was a good idea. After all, he was trying to stay low as much as possible. When he did not reply immediately and kept silent for a while, the female Dunmer, Irileth hissed. "The Jarl asks for your name. So speak."

Despite her tone and appearance, Irileth did not intimidate Draco one bit, but a thought came to his mind.

' _Better give the name then. I'm nobody but a traveller, my name will be forgotten in no time,'_ he thought.

"Name's Draco. Draco Forestwind."

"Draco Forestwind, hmm… ," Jarl Balgruuf mused. "Human eyes, rather tall for a Wood Elf, and as well as the first name being Imperial. You're a half Wood Elf half Imperial?"

"Is it any of your concern?" Draco asked in a cold manner.

"No, I'm just curious. You certainly have no obligation to tell me, but it's not every day we see a half breed," Jarl Balgruuf replied, showing no offence taken in his tone. "Anyways, on to the point, I want to hear from the both of you what had happened yesterday. You first, Forestwind."

"I was minding my own business in the inn, I saw this Nord here harassing a barmaid and attempted to attack her because she accidentally bumped into him and spilled mead on him. I stopped him. He was not happy, and hence attacked me. I retaliated in self-defence and I admit to causing damage and disturbance of peace. End of story," Draco explained everything in the quickest way possible.

"Very well," Jarl Balgruuf said before turning to Torying. "Let's hear from you, Face-Smasher."

"This cowardly Elf here was trying to hit on the barmaid, because I know it when I see one. These elves have forbidden the worship of Talos, and now they want to use our women! I would not stand idly while this happened! I have to do something!" Torying shouted angrily.

Draco really wanted to laugh at Torying's words, but held kept it to himself. He knew of people who would twist the truth and still make it believable, but as for what Torying said, it was completely ludicrous.

Jarl Balgruuf then turned to the prison warden and asked, "Are there any witnesses willing to support either of their statements?"

"Yes we have, however they seem to be giving different accounts on what happened and we are not sure who's telling the truth," the prison warden answered.

"Send them in then," Jarl Balgruuf commanded.

A few minutes later, Draco saw the guardsmen bring in several witnesses, all which he did not recognise. By this point, Draco was rather a little bored and practically ignored the entire time where Jarl Balgruuf was questioning the witnesses as they provided their statements. Despite that he did not care about the witnesses' statements, he could hear that there are more accusatory statements being directed at him instead of Torying.

"Well, I have heard enough," Jarl Balgruuf said, indicating that he was finished hearing the statements. He then looked at Draco and Torying. "So, I have a question to ask the both of you, is it worth it to get in trouble with the law on a festive occasion, and miss celebrating it with your friends and family?" Jarl Balgruuf questioned in a somewhat disappointing tone.

"Why would I bother with such stupid occasions like this Saturalia?" Torying snorted. "I am very busy and got my own things to do. My family and friends just do their own business and we don't ask."

Jarl Balgruuf rubbed his temples. "Well, it's not like you get the chance to have time to celebrate such happy occasions with your family and friends. The gift giving, the partying, and the parading. Most people don't have the opportunity to do this on a common day," he responded before looking at Draco. "And your answer, Forestwind?"

"I'm just going to ask this," Draco started coldly. "Why are you even allowing Saturalia to be a big event to be celebrated in your city of Whiterun, the trading hub of Skyrim, in the middle of a bloody civil war?"

Gasps are immediately heard in the grand hall, followed by a long silence.

Draco continued from where he stopped. "Life is unpredicatable. For all you know, Whiterun could be under attack at this instant, or perhaps maybe in a few seconds, or possibly… minutes? Hours? Whatever it is, if Whiterun were to be attacked, many of your people will be vulnerable to unjust death because they spent their time outside celebrating Saturalia. Which side of this civil war is Whiterun on anyway? General Tullius and the Empire? Or Ulfric and his Stormcloaks?"

"Whiterun has been neutral on both sides ever since this war started," Irileth interrupted coldly. "Jarl Balgruuf never took a side. He rejects the Imperial reinforcements, and he has also refused to join Ulfric's cause. And that is not going to change anytime soon. Remember that."

' _Whiterun is neutral in the civil war?'_ Draco felt surprised at this fact. _'That's… unexpected.'_

Jarl Balgruuf appeared to know what Draco was thinking. "I have never picked a side on this war," he said, "I have to think for Whiterun and her people. General Tullius and his friends in the Empire will tell you that I owe them my loyalty, and perhaps I do. Ulfric Stormcloak would say that I owe my allegiance to the Nord people as they fight for Skyrim's independence. Perhaps this is also true. The day might come when I am forced to draw my sword for one side or the other. But that day has not come yet."

' _I had never met a ruler that would put the interests of his city and people more than himself before,'_ Draco thought. _'Impressive. Perhaps, I should not judge too much._ _But… even if Whiterun is neutral, isn't it still dangerous to celebrate Saturalia in a middle of a civil war_?'

"I have something else to ask," Draco started, "Even if the city is neutral, isn't it even more dangerous for Whiterun? When a hold is neutral on a war, the opposing sides while try to get the neutral hold to join them, in this case, Whiterun. And if all else fails, what if they decide to attack Whiterun and take it for themselves? I understand that you want your people to be happy but… is it still safe to celebrate these festive occasions then?"

Now there was a lot of discussion going on. Jarl Balgruuf's court and the guards were all whispering to each other.

"ARE WE HERE TO DISCUSS ABOUT THE SAFETY OF WHITERUN, OR TO DECIDE THE RULING OF THE CASE OF DISTURBANCE OF PEACE!"

The angry shout silenced everyone as the turned to the source, Torying Face-Smasher, except Draco, who just continued to look straight ahead emotionlessly.

"Ahem.. ah yes… ahem… the ruling," Jarl Balgruuf coughed and cleared his throat. "Since today is Saturalia and in addition that this issue is not a serious crime, I will be lenient. So, for Torying Face-Smasher, you shall serve your sentence by serving the community. You will clean up the entire streets of Whiterun today, and make sure it's clean."

"Hah, what a dumb punishment," Draco heard Torying mutter.

"As for Draco Forestwind…" Jarl Balgruuf paused before continuing, "He shall be released immediately."

Draco looked at Jarl Balgruuf and then blinked his eyes a few times before rubbing them. _'Released immediately? What's Jarl Balgruuf thinking?'_ he thought in shock.

Torying could not believe what he had heard either.

"I HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE STREETS OF WHITERUN THE ENTIRE DAY, AND YET HE'S ALLOWED TO WALK OFF WITHOUT PUNISHMENT. I PROTEST! THIS IS STUPID! IT'S UNFAIR!" Torying ranted.

"Send Face-Smasher away for his duties, and release Forestwind immediately and get his belongings," Jarl Balgruuf commanded to the guards.

Two city guards dragged Torying out of Dragonsreach, who was still yelling and struggling to get free. The rest of the guards just looked at their Jarl in shock.

"My Jarl, you really want to release him?" one of the guards asked.

"We have to trust the Jarl's judgement Arnber," the prison warden answered.

"Very well, Strolof," the guard replied.

A few guards came to untie the bands tied to both of Draco's hands before signalling him to come with them to retrieve his belongings, but Draco just stood still.

"Hey, the Jarl said that you are free to go," the prison warden called to Draco. "Don't you want to get your stuff?"

Instead of replying to the prison warden, Draco asked Jarl Balgruuf, "Why did you let me go?"

"Your name is new to me, but I have seen your face once," Jarl Balgruuf started on his answer, "I know what you did for Whiterun." He pulled out a giant dismembered toe and a piece of paper from his pocket before showing it to Draco. "Do you recognise this?"

Draco looked closely at the huge toe, and then it came to him. That toe was from the Giant he had killed yesterday, the one where the bounty was placed on. He mutilated the toe from the giant and kept it, but e never went to collect the bounty on that day. So when he got arrested, the guards took it along with his belongings.

"I do. It was a toe from the giant I killed yesterday which the bounty was placed on," Draco said.

"A… giant?" Balgruuf chuckled. "No need to be humble. You killed three, if my guards are correct. They checked out the camp of the giant that had a bounty placed on it. There are three dead ones at that camp. A giant is not to be messed with, but you alone killed three of them. That is impressive. Such a pity that these pacifist giants had to die, but I am sure you have no choice."

"How does your guards even know that I was the one that killed the other two giants?" Draco countered.

"You did not kill the other two giants?" Jarl Balgruuf was confused.

"No, it wasn't. They were dead by the time I got there," Draco lied. "And what do you mean by you saw me once?"

"Very well, you did not kill the other giants then," Jarl Balgruuf mused. "As for your question, I believe you were the one that acquired a Gildergreen sapling."

' _I shouldn't have said my name earlier. Now everyone in Whiterun will know that I am the one that got the Gildergreen sapling to replace the withered one,'_ Draco thought _. 'I just hope that they don't see me as the answer to Whiterun's problems or someone of importance._

"I believe that a female Wood Elf found you unconscious and brought you to the temple along with the rest of your belongings. One of them was the Gildergreen sapling," Jarl Balgruuf continued. "From your condition, you must have went through a rough situation to get the sapling. It's fortunate that this Wood Elf found you and brought you here. A bit off point, but the Wood Elf that carried you to the temple was a half human like you. Her strength and height are more than an average Wood Elf, and her eyes are also human like yours. But still, you made a great contribution to Whiterun for bringing that sapling, which is the major reason why I decided to let you go."

"How do you know that I was the one that retrieved the sapling?" Draco questioned.

"Are you going to deny that you aren't the one that retrieved the sapling?" Jarl Balgruuf sighed.

"Yes. It was not me," Draco lied once more. "You should not be so trusting on everything you hear and see. You need to prove it, and hearing the words of one is not enough. They could be lying for all you know. And if you are too trusting, it can lead to your own downfall." Draco then turned to follow the prison warden to collect his belongings, leaving Jarl Balgruuf and the court quiet.

-DF-

As Draco left the city gates of Whiterun, his thoughts went back to what Jarl Balgruuf said about the female Bosmer that saved him. She was also a half mer, half man, just like him. That kind of mixed race is already uncommon in the land of Skyrim, even with the migration of the Dunmer from Morrowind, but the thing is, she had Bosmer blood like him, not Dunmer blood.

"Why am I thinking of this anyway?" Draco mumbled to himself as he walked along the road. "Is there really a need to know who she is?"

Draco stopped in the middle of the plains Whiterun, dropped his belongings and sat on the ground. _'I better think of something else. Where should I go next?'_ Draco asked himself as he looked at his map. _'Solitude, Markarth, Riften, or Windhelm?'_

Draco drew his sword before kicking it up to the air. The ivory sword spun around in the air a few times before it dropped down to the ground with a sound. The ivory sword spun slower and slower until it stopped altogether. Draco looked into the direction the blade of his sword was facing.

' _That direction is to Riften,'_ Draco thought as he picked up and sheathed his sword, _'Very well, Riften it is then. The City of Thieves, here I come.'_

Draco spent a few hours travelling through the plains of Whiterun, followed by the rocky crags of Eastmarch and then stepped into lush vegetation of the Rift. The air was much fresher, the surroundings are cooler, and it was much more quiet than ever. It was already quite dark by time he stepped into the Rift, and he had not taken a rest at all. He decided to rest for the night. However, before he could lay down, he heard a slow growl.

Draco immediately readied his sword and entered to a guarding stance. His eyes darted around to find the threat that was looming the darkness, but no avail. The growling slowly got louder and clearer, and Draco tightened his grip on his sword.

' _Be ready for anything, and don't slip up,'_ Draco told himself. He then heard something behind him and quickly turned around, but he saw nothing.

"Don't just use your eyes and ears," he mumbled to himself, "You also have to think, and feel."

Draco closed his eyes and felt the empty surroundings around him. Although he did not see anything in his surroundings, he could certainly feel it's presence.

' _Feel it. Use your senses,'_ he told himself in his head.

He took deep breathes, nice and slow. He can't rely on his own sight to defend himself against the threat lurking, his sight can throw him off and misdirect him, so he had to rely mostly on his other senses.

He heard the growling getting louder. His foe is getting closer, and closer.

' _Just not yet,'_ Draco thought, eyes still closed _. 'Let it get closer.'_

The growling got louder again, and the sound of claws scratching the ground could be heard.

' _It's closer…'_

The smell of rotten meat and bone hit his nose.

' _I can feel it…'_

And before he knew it, a creature pounced on Draco from behind.

Draco opened his eyes and saw that a wild bear was trying to kill him. The bear lifted up its claws and brought it down on him, but he managed to block it with his sword successfully a few times. When he got the chance, Draco quickly kicked the bear off him and quickly got back on his feet before entering his guarding stance.

' _I can't believe that I failed to defend against the bear's first strike,'_ Draco thought to himself as he saw the bear getting back on its feet.

The bear growled loudly and glared at Draco with its beady eyes. Draco intended to pacify the bear with an illusion spell, but an idea popped up.

' _Maybe, this will be practice for me with my sword and my defensive skills,'_ Draco thought. _'Just treat this as a nice spar.'_


End file.
